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Saturday, January 14, 2012

One of the toughest things you can face as a married man is the sight of another bloke with his arm around your missus...

Hands Off My Bird!
I feel like Rhodri Giggs. But with less chance of selling my story to The Sun. She's clearly got love in her eyes. And a doily on her head. But let's face it, with a suit like that, he's clearly going to turn a few heads. And stomachs.

The worst part is that I always thought Lisa was the kind of girl who stayed in at the weekends, playing Scrabble with her Mum...

It's Curtains for Fashion
Although with curtains like that, you'd probably want to get out of the house quite a bit.

Anyhoo, I successfully scanned sixty-seven - yes, sixty-seven - old photos last night, before adjusting them, cropping them, and uploading them all to Photobox. But if you think that must have taken ages, you'd be wrong. I was asleep by 1am. Well, a quarter past.

Fortunately I didn't have to be up this morning, as my parents have kindly run off with Amelie this weekend to give us a chance to relax, unwind, and get the Ribena stains out of the sofa. I'm sitting here surrounded by ten naked cushions and the gentle hum of the tumble-dryer finishing off our dry-clean-only sofa covers on a very high heat.

It's been a day of discovery, because in addition to testing whether our cushion covers can survive a spin cycle, I also found a mould farm down the back of the sofa. Obviously we're no strangers to fungus, and there are strong rumours that the caravan city outside is linked to the council's plans to re-render the exterior of the block in an effort to solve the damp problem, but this was still a momentous discovery, because whilst we've had mould in both bedrooms and the bathroom, we've never before lived with it in the lounge.

Needless to say, black mould on your mauve walls is not a desirable look, so I successfully removed it all this afternoon. And replaced it with some attractive pale turquoise patches. It seems that despite using the same brand of mould cleaner in both bedrooms without the slightest hint of a problem, the paint on the living room wall has reacted like I've thrown a bucket of bleach at it, and now looks like a piece of modern art.

I'm in good company though, because whilst I've been redecorating the living room in two-tone pastels, Lisa's been experimenting with a cutting-edge, state-of-the-art hair dye which guarantees to be 100% drip-free. She's been waltzing around the flat with a black cape on, looking like Michael Keaton in Batman. But with more confidence, and much darker hair. The results are pretty spectacular. In fact her hair looks so good, she's decided to go out tonight. Just as soon as she's finished cleaning all the drips off the computer chair, carpet and my bedside cabinet.