06 September 2008

Nobbled

“Oh bless him!” said my Mother.
“Mum, come on!” I implored. I’d been convinced she’d bless me this time.
“It’s not so bad” she said.
“He bought me a packet of hobnobs for our anniversary!” I squeaked.
“They were chocolate coated!” she pointed out helpfully.
“I want diamond coated, set in platinum!”

I leant against the kitchen worktop, holding one up for inspection before biting it with as much resentment as I could muster towards something so rich in coca-solids.

“This is bad” I warned. I honestly hadn’t realised it could get any worse than the dog coasters he bought me in 2001. Although, that wooden box with the miniature duck and fishing rod on the lid I’d got for Christmas had been horrifying at the time. I hid it in a cupboard.

“Just be thankful” mum said.
I didn’t want to be thankful. “I’m going now. It’s my wedding anniversary and I’ve got 15 hobnobs to eat”. I put the phone down as she began instructing me to eat an apple instead.

That night, as Accountant snorted beside me like a walrus with dodgy adenoids, I couldn’t sleep - partly due to the snoring, partly because I couldn’t help but think that anniversary hobnobs were just one present away from divorce. It was if he’d just given up on me altogether.

At least with the coasters, weird wooden box and dog breeding book, he’d shown some sort of originality and somehow thought that I’d like them. Of course, it just served to prove that, despite all the years we’d been together, he didn’t know me at all but, even so.

What would next year’s present be? A packet of Bourbons? Custard creams? That’s if we even made it to next year. I logged onto the Relate website and clicked on the Frequently Asked Questions. There was nothing about biscuits.

I decided it was time for a little chat. Accountant hates ‘chats’, so I eased him in by presenting him with his favourite dinner when he arrived home. Whilst his mouth was still full, I seized my opportunity.

“You still love me don’t you sweetheart?”
He glanced heavenward before nodding cautiously.
I tried for a more emphatic response. “You do really, don’t you?”
He swallowed his chicken kiev. “Of course I do” he said before cramming eleven chips into his mouth. Knowing that was as good as it got, I left him be.

When he sat down later that evening, I handed him a cup of tea and a coaster. A poofy dog one, retrieved from under the sofa wheel, where it had lived happily for seven years. He didn’t notice and plonked it on the table, next to a hideously unattractive trinket box with a duck on it.

Weeks have passed and, although I notice the coasters and duck box everyday, Accountant still hasn’t. My mother, however, noticed immediately.

“Oh, bless you” she said to me. Finally.

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