These terrible things that have been happening are not just limited to the intrusions into my life’s places of sanctuary by an ever controlling and inclusive missus who thinks that a boundary is what softballers hit. Clearly, many other men have to suffer similar perversities and proclivities put upon them by their own women who insist on updating them on every little detail to do with Endeavour and who knows what other shows.
Star Trek, Fargate and all the Stargates and the movies offer solutions. So too, does a Man cave, a Man’s shed, fishing even. And, perhaps, the wisest choice is to just fall into line. So, admire Stephanie from B&B. Become fixated, even. Believe that she would not do to you, what others might do. Take back some control even, by passing Stephanie the sponge while you are in the shower. Or, if you want to surrender everything, pass Stephanie the loofah! Or make her the loofah!
But there is something else perhaps more terrible….
As I wake each morning, I (sometimes) take an early morning fart and a leak on the way to wandering into the kitchen. I mix my coffee day starter, and then nick through the garage and out into the street to collect the newspaper.
In the garage is a shiny, new VW Amarok, virginal and unchristened in the ways of 4WD (though it has one), dirtless and dustless, without a grain of red sand to make a permanent stain on undercarriage and door sills. Yes, it has all the trappings of a “gunna”: roof racks, UHF radio, bullbar, sliding drawers and a fridge with its own 2nd battery. Its dash is cuddled by a soft carpet mat, its seats by warm sheepskin rugs. It nestles protected like a vain and pretty swan in the garage each day and night, cosy against, you guessed it, my missus’ car!
As I bend over to collect the newspaper (sometimes as a dare I go butt naked into the street just to do this) and I turn to trudge inside the house, I am overcome with tremendous guilt.
My darling, my adventurer, my JKU, Rubicon and all, sits alone in the coldness of the morning, banished to a flat and uncovered paved slab. Dew rakes her sides. Leaves litter her black top. Sticks try to cut into her tyres. Windows seep with the distress of countless puffs of freezing air. This noble warrior, this beast of tenacity and fury and noise and grunt and, and, and…. pushed out by a princess!
Set aside to be left to the ravages of nature. This warrior that has taken me so many places, this warrior a rock like no other. This beast of a MAN!!!
But, this beast of a MAN can take it. I know it can. It knows it can. It has and it does! What’s being left out in the cold matter when you have traversed the biggest deserts, many deserts in a day, the roughest tracks, the highest hills and endured the greatest midday heat. No princess this. A King!
The Amarok may have its pride of place, for now. It may have invaded that kingly JKU’s space. It may be washed with the loofah. The king can take the sponge any day! It may be shiny and glistening, and coveted even. It might have a garage mate.
And here, at last, here is a great and wonderful thing.
My missus might try to tell me how to park, and even insist on checking whether I have parked between the lines, but here, at last, I have found my man cave, my man's shed, my sanctuary. My un-invaded sanctuary. My missus cannot drive the Amarok or the JKU. Hooray for me!!
Last edited by humdingerslammer; 15-08-2021 at 08:36 PM.
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