Married bliss

‘Well, you definitely won’t like these oranges,’ said TL the other night, screwing his face up into as close to an ‘euwwwww’ expression as a man could get. He likes sour things, to the extent that he will happily eat a lemon, and he loves the bitter skin of kiwi fruit. But this was obviously too acidic even for him. I was a bit puzzled, as I hadn’t bought anything that looked vicious enough to provoke his expression.

Except for the Seville oranges, of course.


Still, it’s better than the time a few years ago when he took a bagful of Seville oranges back to the shop, outraged at how horrible they tasted. The man at the counter swapped them over, no questions asked. Neither had clearly ever even heard of marmalade.

TL is making me laugh a lot at the moment. Take Borgen, our favourite show, which is Danish with subtitles, but not nearly as worthy and dull as that sounds. In fact, it’s the gripping tale of a woman prime minister, and she is an actual human being, not a Thatcher clone. In order to watch Borgen, TL has to look for his glasses, which usually takes half an hour and involves stomping around the house, before finding them where I said they were half an hour ago. That’s all fine, of course. But, during the last few episodes, poor TL was finding it hard to read the subtitles, even once he’d found his glasses. There were mutterings about the incompetence of the optician, there were complaints about the TV itself. Finally, he thought of cleaning his glasses. Which was when he discovered that one of the lenses was missing. I’m still laughing now.

I do love being married.

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