Those Hats and the Reverend.

The bride’s mother’s hat was about the only one passing the mustard. We had a nice share of Fish and Chips at the local pub. I asked Helvi; ‘shall we go the whole hog and buy a full bottle, it works out cheaper.’  ‘Yes, sure, we might as well,  she replied. ‘The wedding is on TV tonight, lets get merry!’ ‘Get the Shiraz.’

The waitress and I have an understanding to keep the bottle’s cap. This helps us not having to drink the whole bottle and drive home half sloshed. After a couple of glasses, and the share of Fish and Chips, our bottle was re-capped by the waitress. A brown paper bag over it, we walked to the car and drove home.

We switched on the TV and sure enough, the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan was at a spiffing rate. Guests were arriving in numerous outfits and stretched-out cars. What really stood out were the women’s hats. Not just the hats, but the acute angles that they were fastened on the heads. The inspiration for hats at this wedding was avian. In fact I expected some hats quite capable of laying eggs. Camila, Prince Charley’s wife,  had a hat so large it became speculative material for a subdivision. It blocked out the CNN news crew who quickly rearranged themselves behind George Clooney, who thankfully, like most men, was hatless.

The price for the most unexpected event would have to go to the Chicago reverend, Michael Curry. He totally veered off the written scripts and went all spiritual. The word ‘Love’ was mentioned 56 times. This in front of a stone faced British audience. As he preached along, he became more and more evangelically enmeshed. If he expected the Queen and her Prince Phillip husband to leap up and shout ‘alleluia’, he was badly informed about the English. The Queen was visually squirming. The only one who seemed comfortable was the bride who was totally at ease with the fervour and zeal of the event.

Some priceless close-ups of battle hardened married couples were telling that ‘love’ does at times extract a price not previously having been foreseen. Especially at times of weddings. The white wedding dress, the Ave Maria. It was all so beautiful and romantic then!

Prince Charley and Camila were especially showing some wear and tear but what the heck. I reckon they both make the best of what marriage is very good at. An enduring friendship, that sails along the waves of time and glory, both the bad and the good.

Helvi and I polished off the Shiraz and some more. We enjoyed it very much which was unexpected. We did like the wedding dress and its 10 metre trail. I mentioned to Helvi it cost $180.000. ‘So what?’ she said.  I wasn’t sure what to make of her statement. I know weddings can be expensive. Some time ago, I wrote that there is a correlation between the expense of weddings and the duration of the marriage.  The dearer the wedding the shorter the marriage. We shall see. It certainly explains a lot about our relationship, now in its sixth decade and nicely steaming along.

I wish all the best for the Harry and Meghan. I reckon they will see it through.

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-05-20/royal-wedding-meghan-markle-upstaged-by-reverend-michael-curry/9779990

 

Beer-battered Fish & Chips

Beer- battered “Fish & Chips.’

I like cooking, so, it’s no wonder that after so many years, cooking has fallen solidly in my department, but I sometimes baulk at the prospect of , yet again, get the potatoes out of the garage ( the garage is our second freezer) open the kitchen drawer, rummage for the peeler, and proceed to peel them. I remember well my mother doing that daily for a huge family, year in year out. We were all big fans of the potato with nice gravy. My mother’s gravy was so nice; we could almost have lived of that alone. I never make gravy. I don’t know why. It probably, like everything else now, dates back to childhood. Dr Kleinkind will probably deduce I am clearly suffering from a dysfunctional childhood. That will be $ 820. – , secretary will write you a receipt.

Today, I sighed, within earshot of Helvi. She knows me so well. She asked; don’t feel like cooking today, dear? Ah, I don’t know, I mumbled back, looking down at the carpet, picking up imaginary dog hairs in a somewhat desultory manner. Helvi kept me in suspense. Ah well, she said, I felt the same with making the bed and doing the washing. It gets so boring. She knows all the aspects of our fencing towards a known and pre-determined outcome.

I hold the key; let’s celebrate our life and I’ll take you out for lunch, I said. Between 12 and 15 the Bowral Pub has a special lunch, I am starving, I quickly add. Oh, I am not hungry yet, she quick as a flash, I had my chick pea soup for breakfast. Helvi makes a fine and hearty soup from chicken stock with lots of vegetables including all sorts of peas ensuring both of us are in prime form and within very good and flush running condition. I am not a breakfast soup person but H is. My fried black-pudding is probably a good dietary breakfast match.

Ah well, that’s a pity. I really felt like taking you out, perhaps have a plate of the beer battered fish & chips with crispy salad and a slice of lemon; I believe the John Dory is on this week, I stated casually. How do you know, she asked while emptying the laundry basket on the floor? I just happened to see the blackboard outside this morning when we walked past, I lied. Did the reader notice I said ‘I really felt’? The lunch has moved in the past tense now. Did Helvi sense a retraction of the promise?

No, she persisted; why don’t you have some of my soup for lunch? Micro-wave it but put a lid on, those chick peas do pop a lot, she added for extra impact and stoic Nordic determination.
I changed tack; as she sorted the washing from the floor, I started peeling the potatoes, hinting at the usual prospect of a jam or cheese sandwich for lunch and spuds for dinner.

I now put on my best position, en garde with raised gleaming foil and raised sabre; Helvi dear, you look very nice this morning; those jeans make you look very slim and lithe, I parried. (I did not say lithe but it reads nicely). Her riposte was sweet and to the point of no return.

Ok then, let’s wait an hour to get really hungry. The Bowral pub is open till 3pm. You keep peeling and I’ll load the washing machine. Ok dear, fair enough. Nice day today. Yes it is. Frost this morning too, the cyclamens were frozen up. Yes, but they don’t mind, in Persia they flower in snow. Really, do they now? Yes, really. Have you seen my glasses? Yes, they’re on your forehead. I have done the potatoes. Oh, that’s nice dear, put on your jacket. Where is it? It is where you left it this morning after the walk. Try and remember things.

Yes, let’s go, the John Dory is beckoning.