Darling Man!

Posted by dulwichmum on Sun 21 December 2008

James woke up with a killer hangover after attending the firm’s low key Christmas Party.  There was not much to celebrate this year, but plenty to drink about…

He didn’t even remember how he got home. It’s 8.30. “What day is it? Sunday.” His wife must have gone Christmas shopping.

As he struggled into consciousness through the fog of a pounding headache, his stomach plummeted and he wondered what the hell he did last night.

He forced himself to open his eyes, and the first thing he saw was a couple of aspirins next to a glass of water on the minimalist bedside table. And, next to them, a little vase of fresias, freshly purchased from Alleyn Park Garden Centre.

He sat up. The bedroom was clean and tidy – there was no trail of drunkenly abandoned clothes, fresh air was coming in through the window and all was serene. He stumbled to the en-suite bathroom, also pristine, and, squinting gingerly into the mirror, saw that he had a black eye. This was not a good sign, but no memories were returning.

OHMYGOD!

As he concentrated hard on getting the world into focus, he noticed a yellow post-it note stuck on the corner of the mirror. It was written in red, with little hearts on it and a kiss from his wife.

“I shall ring your office and tell them you won’t be in today. Croissants are warming in the oven. Try to eat something and go back to bed for the morning. There’s snooker on TV this afternoon. Take it easy today, hope your eye doesn’t hurt too much. See you tonight. I love you, darling!

Love,

Bea x “

He stumbled to the kitchen and sure enough, there was hot breakfast, steaming hot coffee and the newspaper. His tiny son was sitting at the table, eating.  The housekeeper was busy in the larder.

James, bracing himself, asked Albena what happened the previous night. “Well, you came home after 3 A.M., drunk and out of your mind. You fell over the coffee table and broke it, and then you puked in the hallway, and got that black eye when you ran into the door,” she barked as she poured him a cup of steaming coffee.

Confused, he asked the portly Bulgarian household serf, ‘So, why is everything in such perfect order, aspirins by the bed, a nice note from Mrs Parry-Jones and breakfast waiting for me?’

The bearded old lady replied: “OH THAT!… Mrs Parry-Jones dragged you to the bedroom, and when she tried to take your trousers off, you shouted:  “Leave me alone you slapper, I’m a married man!”

Broken Coffee Table £250
Hot Breakfast £3.50
Two Aspirins 20p
Saying the right thing,
at the right time……PRICELESS