Usually when Mark and I go down to the High Street to browse in the shops it goes like this. For twenty minutes I pretend to be there, and to care, but then I start to complain about everything taking so long.

English: Shopping carts in ABC Tikkula.
Photo credit: Wikipedia

By now, my man knows me well enough to understand that he should expose me to this as little as possible. He will get so much more enjoyment out of shopping if I’m not there. So, usually, he parks me in a bookshop or an internet café where time can pass without me noticing it at all. Usually he just says to me to go there as soon as we come down. “I’ll come over and find you later”.

For his own enjoyment of shopping, he knows that this is the best thing he can do, but of course there are times when this is not possible – such as when we’re going to buy clothes for me. I have to be there and okay things, and try things out. It’s absolute torture, I tell you.

And that’s what we’ve done today, shopping for a new pair of trousers for me, as well as a new jacket. It took an eternity, and I couldn’t escape to my books.Try as I might, I just can not seem to contain the urge to let out how boring it is to sit around like that. I’m a much more direct shopper. I identify what I want before going, then go into a store to find the item, and then I leave.

Mark, however, loves to browse. He likes to find thing on site that he likes. He likes to touch, feel, and examine fabrics. He likes to see how things fit. He likes to take his time. For that, it’s just better that the impatiently foot-shifting and eye-rolling me is as far away as possible.

Photo credit (Royal House of Sweden)
Photo credit (Royal House of Sweden)

Yesterday we had Aunt over for dinner, and by the end of the evening we had a mountain of dishes, so whatever it was that Mark cooked certainly was eaten. It was a dish called Nasi Goreng, which is an Indonesian rice dish which was absolutely lovely. Apparently you can add anything to it; from sausages to chicken to fish.

The cause for her visit was familial; hey, it’s been a while since she was over for more than five minutes, and I like my Aunt and wanted to spend some time with her. She’s like mum, but without the parent instincts and the psychological warfare.

We also settled on us two moving back to her cellar come this autumn, and I’m happy that this is resolved. We’ll pay the same rent as before, so it will be all right. A bit of nepotism is always welcome when it flows my way. Aunt actually said that it would be nice to have us back there because even with the tenants, the big house was empty.

And back then, we used to have these kinds of dinners every Sunday. It was a thing. That thing fell apart when we moved to this house. I enjoyed those dinners, and maybe we can start them up again when we move back.

Mark is always sombre when this comes up because I think that he secretly hopes that his parents will change their minds. I don’t think they will, and we can’t really wait for them to do so. If they don’t and we don’t prepare, then we’ll be on the street in August.

Inspired by our example, Auntie’s daughter and my cousin, is getting married in May. So, we were also invited to that bash. They’ll of course be properly married, and not just ‘civil partnerered’.

The reason is that the first proper same-sex marriages are due to be performed at Easter in this country, and after those flood-gates open, my cousin will wait a bit and then tie the knot with her girlfriend.

I’m just waiting for my Scottish cousin to announce things now. I actually don’t know if he has a boyfriend or not. He’s living in London now, but haven’t been over to visit yet. I’m sure he’s thrown himself into the London gay life. He’s that sort of person, the party type. I mean, he is Scottish.

It makes me laugh that of the five cousins in this generation of ours, three of us turned out to be queer. For once, we’re in the majority. It also shows that there must be a genetic component to this gay thing. And it also makes me wonder which of our parents, or grandparents, have something they wish to tell the rest of the family.

On January 14th 2014 I go up for my practical driving test. Wish me luck!? I wasn’t able to do it before the New Year, because there’s too little time left until then, and there are lots of holidays in the way. So, I’ll have to wait until after the New Year.

With any luck, I’ll walk out of there holding a freshly minted driving license that lift all the restrictions on the provisional which I have now. Of course, this means that the first drive will probably be the last.

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