It is a very strange mix of personalities in our house. Being out female'd on a scale of 3 to 1, I'm not counting the dog, as he will side with anybody with the tastiest snack, or sweatiest feet :) Plus we had his balls removed, a surgery that I'm sure would effect any guy.
So tonight it was a very different evening, no gym, or relaxing watching the latest blockbuster, but and evening of culture and open air poetry.
Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how the mood goes, the weather was good, so the evening went ahead and as my dear wife was reading, all the family showed willing and went to offer moral support.
Poetry is a strange thing. I'm sure at school, I was taught that poems rhymed, or had a beat. But tonight, only a handful of the offerings offered me what I understood to be poems, the rest just seemed like very short stories. It probably that I'm just a heathen.
So my wife read two poems, one entitled "Why I won't win the lottery", which if I had previously heard might of put me off marriage, as I quite fancy winning the lottery.
The second was an interest thing, that she assured me was about her love for me, but how I'm liken to a 6 minute boiled egg is lost on my I uncultured brain.
Give me something with a plug on it, it need to get back to reality...
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