It's Not Me - It's Him!

You know how men ramble on about all kinds of crap and you just nod and smile while you plan next weeks meals or wonder whether you could get away with dying your hair blue?

I mean, you can't possibly listen to EVERYTHING they say ...  can you??

I do it quite a lot with Surfer Dude.  Mostly he's waffling on about his second favourite Harley wheels or the intricate in's and outs of a Baja engine.  I figure I'm just a sounding board and he doesn't really expect any kind of meaningful conversation anyway which, let's face it, is just as well, because I know bugger all about most of the things he's banging on about.

Well occasionally it comes back to bite me on the bum ...

I've had a great weekend.  On Friday night I went to listen to a local band - Stuff Stan Likes -   SD, as I've mentioned before, knows EVERYBODY!

Well, at least everybody knows him.  Seriously, we can't go anywhere without people stopping to talk to him.

The minute we walked through the door he was accosted by a couple who insisted on buying us a drink -  not so shabby ;)

The trouble with SD is that he tends to recognise people only with reference to the car/bike etc that they own, He doesn't remember names and so can't introduce me.  If I'm in a benevolent mood I'll introduce myself, hold out my hand and say, 'Hi, I'm Sarah' which usually prompts them to offer their name and gets SD out of a sticky situation.

If I'm not, I'll stand there looking expectantly at SD and watch him squirm ;).

So anyway, we had a great time.  Not only were the band rocking but the pub was holding a beer and cider festival so it was heaving.

On Saturday we went to pick up a caravan that SD kind of accidentally bought on EBay.  I know, I know, how the hell do you manage to do that?

Ask SD, he seems to manage to do it effortlessly which is how he ended up with the Jeep and the green Beetle.

On the way there a car passed us, bloke waving, beeping his horn etc. 'Who's that' I asked.

'Umm, Dave I think' said SD - you know, you met him last year, remember ...

Hmm, not ringing any bells for me.  Unsurprisingly as it turned out as apparently when I saw him he was driving a drag racing tractor and dressed in a gorilla suit (now that I DO remember!).

Saturday night we went out to see another band, Snappa - now THEY are in a class of their own!!!  I'm going to attach a link here - go listen to their rendition of Mrs Robinson - I insist!

Go on .....

Look, I'm not a Simon and Garfunkel fan either but trust me ok - GO AND LISTEN!

And then listen to some of their other stuff.

And then come on down to Somerset (you can stay with me:) and I'll take you to see them live!

So, back to the caravan (this is where the 'me not listening' bit comes in).

Occasionally, just occasionally mind, SD says something that I probably should have listened to ....

On Sunday we had a good look over the caravan.  Now, being SD it's not your average, run of the mill (if there is such a thing) van.  It's quaint, it's quirky, it's tiny which is about all he can cope with as he doesn't see himself as the caravan club type but this one has just about enough charm for him to be able to deal with it.

Bear in mind that I'm not good at being told how to do things, particularly things that seem obvious to me such as 'how to lock a caravan door'.  So, when SD started to explain it to me I was busy mentally redecorating the interior ( I'm thinking blue and white stripes - sound familiar ;) and maybe some glitter ...) for him and then, when he asked me to lock it up the bloody thing wouldn't!

SD expressed surprise that I couldn't do it bearing in mind that he had spent at least 5 minutes explaining how just moments before.

So I got shitty because I felt he was patronising me, 'of course I can lock a fucking door!'

Two minutes later SD said with exaggerated patience. 'Sarah, don't you think your being just a little childish here?'

'No I don't' I said, 'and frankly I'm a little offended by that suggestion!'

'Ok', he said.  'Then perhaps you can explain to me why, when all I was doing was trying to help you, you ran away singing with your hands over your ears and now you're hiding behind a hedge ....'