Wednesday 15 October 2008

The most useless boyfriend on the planet

14st 4lb; zero alcohol yesterday; life expectancy 1,209 days; The Wrong Place.

The best thing about being in a relationship … well, there is that stuff I am not allowed to write about in the blog, I suppose, but even so I think I have to agree that the best thing about being in a relationship is the sense that one is no longer alone; that there will always be someone on (and ideally at) my side in the never-ending battle with the Government, police, utilities, banks, retailers, clients, service providers, neighbours etc etc etc.

And where was I when my beloved Less Tall Cheshire Brunette came to the dreaded conclusion that she would have to have her beloved cat put to sleep? Holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement and consolation? No, sitting on my ample backside 220 miles away in Northumberland, quite probably scratching myself. I must confess that I was rather taken aback by the speed both of the cat’s decline, and of her decision that the kindest thing to do would be to end the animal’s suffering. I made a mental note never to look poorly in her presence, particularly if the Government goes down the route of legalizing voluntary euthanasia, as it probably will since it seems such a lousy idea. My aunt used to cast a beady eye on her Border terrier years ago and say “One cough and he’s off!” I shall clearly have to invest in an ample supply of soothing jujubes if the LTCB and I decide to stay together.

Which might not be a foregone conclusion after my lousy performance today. I did offer to return when she told me that she had booked the cat into the vet’s for the last time, though in reality I could not possibly have driven to Chester in the time available. So while she was making the saddest journey that any pet owner can embark upon, mercifully in the company of a sympathetic friend, I was faffing around taking an old computer to the council tip and closing a couple of building society accounts, since even I have finally twigged that there are unlikely to be any more handy windfalls for carpetbaggers in the foreseeable future. I felt utterly useless as well as completely knackered, so I did what any self-respecting Bloke would do in the circumstances: I spent the evening drinking a great deal of beer.

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