Ballad for the lost romantics……….(13.02.10)

Posted: 18/10/2010 in ravings of a mad woman

It would seem that Valentine’s Day is upon us again, with all the romance, passion, premeditated spontaneity and let’s face it, sheer shash that comes with it. Saying this, being a woman, I am contractually obliged to go “a bit nuts”. I merely hope that this year is better then the last. Let’s see, how did that one go again? Oh yes: On Friday 13th (less then two weeks after the final death rattle had been heard emanating from the ashes of the dying swan that was my four and a half year relationship) I packed up most of my junk, filled up my little car and set off to start my new life in Hell, sorry, Hull. I went to IKEA in Leeds on Valentines Day itself to purchase a minimal “storage solution”, had a massive row with my new housemate and my ex, once again packed up my shit and filled the car before setting out in the ice and fog to drive across the North of England to be rescued and taken in by my darling big brother and sis-in-law in the middle of the bloody night, followed by the five and a half hour run home with my tail between my legs the very next day. Needless to say last years romanticized holiday spirit was not only nowhere to be found, but I believe it had been run over, scraped up and mailed to Santa in the hope of getting a tasty little something in my stocking come Christmas. And lo, it did happen! Luckily I didn’t actually have to wait the best part of a year, just a few more months.
This year is already shaping up to be much better in the romance stakes and the day itself isn’t actually until tomorrow! I made “the Dude” a teddy bear a week or two ago, which was originally meant to be his Valentines present, but I was just so darned impressed with my own handy work that it just couldn’t wait that long. With a little help from my sister and nephew he was named Brigadier Brandal Ertmeyer and was full of character as my mother would say owing to his wonky arms and legs (and nose, and eyes and ears). I must say I think I did a damned fine job and having never actually made a soft toy before I was oh so very (and rightfully for once) smug. Being skint that’s really the best I can do, other then make him a card (I’m not gonna go into too much detail on it because he’ll find out before he gets it!) which I am actually in the process of doing. I have already warned him that I will probably make him many more silly, wonky soft toys with equally silly names and ranks until he has a full army with which to defend his bedroom from attack. In return he has started making me a tune (which I know wont be ready by tomorrow but I don’t care because it’s sounding amazing so far!), has given me a guitar and will help me learn how to play something on it!
On a different, but still media and corporate driven subject I come to Halloween. I have decided to make my costume for next year and have already decided on the subject matter. I’m going to be a “Little Sister” from the stupidly amazing Bio Shock games. The freaky thing is that I actually used to look like that when I was little anyway! If you don’t know what they look like then Google it, I’m not gonna help you out on that one! This idea, I think, may have come, in part, from the decision I have made to make 2010 the year of Jeffersun’s legs. By this I mean you will, dear readers, see me oot and aboot a lot more with my legs on show during the warmer months of this year. I have decided that the maxi dress is the way forward for me and I intend to stock up on a few once I have some actual, factual funds with which to do so.
Back to the romance for a second I think. I’m not exactly the most romantic girl in the world, but seriously, it is actually quite difficult for us women to be “romantic” as it were, I mean by the definition of romance what we all grew up with thanks to the Fairy Tales and Disney cartoons we gained most of our morals and ideas of the world from. I’m going to cook us a nice romantic dinner to repay the STERLING effort he made for me a little while ago. He promised to cook me dinner and made the most amazing meal and then it turned out he wasn’t even having any of it himself! Of course, even being as unsentimental as I am, I cried a little. It wasn’t the fact that he’d gone to so much effort that got me, it was the fact that he’d gone through all that stress (he cooks the best Bolognese ever but that’s about the extent of his culinary prowess), and freaked out about it and arranged it with proper 5 star style and it was all for ME! Things like that just prove to me that there are still some old romantics left out there girls; you’ve just got to look a little bit harder. To me, the very definition of romance came from a story that my mother told me a few years ago. My father had pinched a chunk of blue cheese from a lodge dinner, wrapped it in a napkin and carried it home for my mother in his suit jacket pocket. This might not seem like much to most people but the fact that the smell of blue cheese can, and will sometimes make my father go a very strange shade of green and slightly weak at the knees. This is romance, plain and simple. I don’t see why women have such a problem with their man picking them up a bunch of flowers from a petrol station on their way home. Fair enough if it’s a BIG occasion but the fact that they stopped anywhere at all to pick something up for you says something to me! That and I must admit I’ve seen some beautiful bouquets on petrol forecourts (just ask Ry if you don’t believe me). I do believe that old Walt Disney has a few things to answer for. Luckily I learned at an early age that there are no white knights or prince charming and that a kiss wont quite make everything all better, that my father may well be the last of a dying breed and that I am NOT a princess (I think That was the hardest one to come to terms with), but there are a great many girls out there who haven’t, cant or just plain wont learn these lessons. To them I say: its ok, just go back to your tea party and carry on waiting. As I’m sure most of you girls would agree, its not all about big, overblown gestures (although they are nice don’t get me wrong!) it’s about the little things. He bought me a massive canvas a few weeks ago, for no reason! (ok, so he didn’t actually pay for – long story, but he was PREPARED to pay nearly £15 for it, just to make me smile!) I am every bit the good little wife when I know my work is appreciated. I even find myself apologizing to him when I’ve made something for dinner out of a packet instead of from scratch and he laughs at me! The glazed look he gets in his eyes after I’ve done a particularly nice steak is all the reward I need – I just sit there and laugh at the poor boy with meat blindness! Don’t get me wrong, I know that sort of thing isn’t for every woman and I’m all for women’s lib and all that but still, I love cooking, and love it even more when I get to laugh at my man at the same time! Just remember that it’s true what they say, the way to a mans heart really is through his stomach, and if you leave, he’ll starve!


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