Dreadful Nonsense

One of the joys of living with only one other person is that you become exposed to many things that would probably have not entered your cultural arena in any other circumstances. In the last eight months, I have developed a taste for Thai food, particularly the curries, that I would never previously have thought possible. I have an actual physical yearning on occasions for bean curd. I understand the rules of cricket. I can identify by sight at least thirty different players and managers from the football premiership. I have watched the entire series of Tinker, Taylor, Soldier, Spy and am halfway through Smiley’s People. I know all the jingles from Radio 5 Live. I can now poach an egg.

He Who Only… is also growing as a person. In the last eight months, he has eaten more quorn than should be physically possible. He knows all the characters from Firefly, and can identify Joss Whedon, Wesley Wyndham-Price and David Boreanaz on sight. He knows exactly the right amount of marmite needed for toast. He has developed cravings for cheese and onion Taytos. He can sing along to Bell X1 and Tom McRae. Importantly, he knows when I require a short, concise answer, or when I need everything explained to me in intricate detail.

This final matter is deeply important. It’s a well known fact that a gentleman likes nothing more of an evening than to sit and explain things to a lady. They love it. They can’t get enough of it. The range and depth of the pool of knowledge He Who Only… carries around with him in his head still astonishes me every day. I love to ask questions and to watch him launch into detailed explanations, complete with background information and the latest political opinion. My life is centered around coming up with the most inane and the most complicated enquiries, and watching him tackle each question with the same enthusiasm, patience and a love of unnecessary detail.

Last week we were sitting in the Nest'O'Lurve watching one of our endless stream of DVDs, and He Who Only... went for a bathroom break. I sat listening to the lovely traffic noise that is the never ending soundtrack to my life now, when all of a sudden, above the car horns, sirens, revving engines and screeching brakes, there came a new sound - hooves.

I swear I heard the sound of a horse passing by our flat. This might not seem that surprising to you where you live, but taking into account where I live, the heavy stream of traffic and the proximity to Dalston, I would found it delightfully unexpected. How brilliant, I thought, the wonder of it all, I can't wait to share this. When He Who Only... returned, I immediately told him what I had heard, and asked if he would ever have thought it possible?

He then launched into what seemed like a 20 minute lecture the use of horses as a means of transport through the ages, the current vogue for keeping horses in suburban areas, the likelihood that a horse would ever be found through choice that close to Dalston, and then he seemed to slip into treatise that seemed to question the actual existence of horses.

This entry was posted on 22 February 2006 at 1:05 pm. 0 comments

Dreadful Nonsense

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