I Don’t Bring Me Flowers.

14 Jan

“Hey Mum! Dad’s home and looks like he’s bought you some flowers!”

It’s been a long and hard few weeks. To say the least. Dishwasher died just before Christmas. Okay – the least of my worries, but bloody annoying nonetheless. Although I’ve been putting on a brave face. I’ve been trying to *pretend* that I don’t mind spending hours and hours chained to the kitchen sink in addition to all of the other millions of things that I do in life. Telling myself stuff along the lines of … chatting to the kids whilst they eat their tea and do their homework is ‘bonding.’ Reassuring myself that forcing them to put away the clean dishes is ‘promoting a sense of responsibility.’

But in truth, it’s been yet another big pain in the arse. And it came hot on the heels of the central heating packing up, the leaking chimney stack and the car needing several hundred more spending on it than we anticipated.

Still, it seems that my other half must have clocked that I was looking even more in need of botox than I normally do. Seemed that he’d picked up on the grottier than usual passive-aggressive remarks emanating from me. And had chosen to bring a smile to my lips by way of floral-treat.

I looked away when he walked through the front door. Pretending that I didn’t know. Not wanting to spoil the little surprise that he had planned for me. And then the 7 year old piped up again; “Oooh, Dad – that’s a nice flower thing for Mum. It’ll cheer her up. She’s been a right miserable old bag.”

A Coffee Plant. A rare thing that gets the coffee-heads down at the Roastery all giddy. But ..?

Coffee. A v rare plant in the UK, that gets the coffee-heads down at the Roastery all a- giddy. But. Really ..?

But Father didn’t seem to hear what the kid was wittering on about. And minutes later, the fella still hadn’t presented me with them. Instead, he was busily engaged in his usual tea-time ritual, feretting about with the toaster, trying to sort his crumpets and jam out. And then I saw it. Right next to the toaster crouched ‘my flowers’.

Which were, in fact – a coffee plant.

Yes, yet again – my other half had brought his work home with him. Although usually it’s bags of freshly roasted coffee, labels and gripes about the giant coffee firms who treat farmers overseas like crap. But today it was the Real McCoy.

And our youngest – not the most discerning when it comes to noticing what flowers could and should look like – had mistaken the plant for a loving gesture aimed at Ma.

I expertly showed not the slightest smattering of disappointment. Instead, I said; “Why’ve you brought the coffee plant home?” In between gobfuls of crumpet he replied, “Too cold in the roastery right now. Need to keep it here.”

“Goodo,” I said. And then added, “Funny – when we saw you with something green and leafy coming through the door, the kids assumed that you had bought me flowers! Imagine that! Hilarious eh? Can’t remember the last time you…”

He gave me a look. “Well. You categorically told me never to buy you flowers again. Don’t you remember? You said that they were an empty-handed gesture and you preferred more meaningful presents as a way of apology. For any guilt-ridden feelings that I might be entertaining.”

I was rather incredulous when faced with this statement. “And you believed me?!” I replied.  Following it up with;”HOW long have we been married?”

Somebody loves me. ME! ME! ME!!!

Somebody loves me. ME! ME! ME!!!

But we left it at that. Probably served me right for being so convincing when I’ve got a bee in my bonnet over something.

Anyway. The whole point of this blog is more about what transpired the next day. I happened to be trundling around Morrisons, when I noticed a rather forlorn looking bunch of roses. Reduced to less than a quid.

It suddenly occurred to me that I have never – ever – bought flowers for myself.  Not because I judge people who engage in such frippery and tokenistic gestures as being shallow and simple-minded souls (if I *DID* think that – one of my bessie-mates, our Lesley would give me a good old fashioned Mancunian pow-slap in the chops, because she’s always spending her cash on floral tributes to herself.) Nah – I’ve just never bought them for myself because it had never occurred to me that I could. That I like flowers. That they perk your living room up a bit and that – for less than a quid – you’d be a bit of a berk to look a gift horse in the mouth. That you don’t need a partner, a child, a friend or *anyone else* in your life to do something nice for you. When you can do it for yourself. Liberation, sisters!

And it’s even more rewarding when, later on in the evening your other half gets home and comments; “Nice roses. Who bought you those?” And you get to screech back at him;

“ME!  ME! ME! I BOUGHT MYSELF FLOWERS BECAUSE NOBODY ELSE WANTED TO!”

And when he resorts back yet again with the; “Well – you told me NOT to…” you can just cut him off at the pass and say;

“Oh go and talk to your coffee plant. I’m sure that it makes more sense than I do. And stick your crumpet in the toaster. Because that’s the only crumpet you’ll be getting, for a few weeks.”

A match made in heaven.

A match made in heaven. Aw. (Really)

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16 Responses to “I Don’t Bring Me Flowers.”

  1. Sharon Alison Butt February 8, 2016 at 8:22 pm #

    Ha ha ha ha ha! Love it! xx

  2. Anne Harvey January 15, 2016 at 11:59 am #

    Another hilarious posting, Chris. Really made me laugh. Come to think of it, my husband hasn’t bought me flowers in a long time either …. Mmm!

    • funnylass January 15, 2016 at 12:11 pm #

      Cheers Anne. Show him the blog and tell him that he sounds SO much like my poor, downtrodden other half. Perhaps it will induce him to purchase your blooms!

      • funnylass January 15, 2016 at 12:11 pm #

        or even your bloomers? Hey. Why not? 😉

  3. Lorna Craig January 14, 2016 at 8:32 pm #

    My late Mum used to bring me flowers, they were always mark downs but that’s how she and I were brought up! Never waste money. Granny would’ve been proud. It’s never occurred to me to buy them for myself ( even mark downs!) I only buy them for the cemetery these days. My OH bought me some slightly sad tulips when our first son was born, I suspect he picked them up when he got off the train. ( the OH ,not the baby) lol . Never since!

    • funnylass January 14, 2016 at 11:06 pm #

      Lorna. I want to buy you flowers now. Whether for 99 p or not. Can you PLEASE buy them for yourself and let me know your bank details. You are owed. And yeah – your Mum n Gran WOULD be proud… x

      • Lorna Craig January 15, 2016 at 8:19 am #

        I think I may be doing my OH an injustice. Although he doesn’t give me flowers, he’s been looking after me for 3 years since I became ill, which , with hindsight, is worth more. I’ll get myself a bunch next time I get out and think of your kind words when I look at them. By the way , I’m also from the North, although further than you, in Scotland! Isle of Arran, paradise on earth xxx

        • funnylass January 15, 2016 at 10:01 am #

          A man who looks after his ill partner is worth a lorry-load of fellas who just buy you flowers… I’m with you on that one. 😉

          I know Arran! Camped on it many moons ago. What a wonderful place – you are Ms LuckyPants.

          And another Lorna from Scotland! My hero is a certain other Lorna from Scotland (Lorna Young Foundation) xxxx

  4. Jackie January 14, 2016 at 6:50 pm #

    You let your son get away with calling you an old bag??!!! X
    P.s. Mine gets me flowers quite regular. Xx

    • funnylass January 14, 2016 at 7:07 pm #

      Most definitely. Because he said it in such a sweet, sympathetic tone. (And if I had mentioned what I REALLY did to him – in terms of locking him in the cellar, we’d have had social services round here like a shot.)

      (Give your partner a slap on the back. Sounds like a good ‘un.)x

  5. Lesley January 14, 2016 at 4:43 pm #

    Sometimes you just have to buy yourself flowers.
    To cheer yourself up when no bugger else noticed and secondly to give our sometimes non significant others a kick up the backside.
    Yes……….Mikey boy forgot our wedding anniversary !!!!

    And I would never give a slap in the gob just a kick up the arse!!

    • funnylass January 14, 2016 at 4:45 pm #

      I am learning from the Master….

  6. juliathorley January 14, 2016 at 4:33 pm #

    This is the best post yet! Oh the poor man. He can’t do right for doing wrong.

    • funnylass January 14, 2016 at 4:39 pm #

      I know! And imagine if I didn’t tell the world what a gem he is. In my usual passive-aggressive, backhanded sorta-way. I’ll add you to his fan club! x

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