The Real Deal

So the weekend with a real house husband was cool. In the interests of research, I stole Real Deal's TO DO list and read it on the loo while he was retuning his kittens' remotes for their cat flap.This is not a euphemism. He was retuning his kittens' remotes for their cat flaps.

Real Deal's To DO list is something else. It was double-sided and colour-coded and has things on it like 'drill four more holes in loo door for gas ventilation before 2008', 'standardise dimmer switches', 'rehang en suite door', 'move mother', and 'torch front drive'. My To DO list has things like 'try to take shirt back to M&S' and 'get right light bulbs this time'. It was pitifully obvious I was out of my league, although I was intrigued by his 'torch front drive'. This guy is so organised he plans his random acts of arson.

(Speaking of random acts, I was talking the other night with some friends about which country we would bomb if we had to. After the naming of the usual suspects and Wales, someone said it had to be The Netherlands just because they are so reasonable and liberal and would be really really shocked that anyone would want to bomb them - "But we have the most functional democracy in Europe", "But my mother, she is a lesbian", "But my dog, he is allowed to vote in local elections", "But my skunk weed, it is endorsed by our Queen Mother" etc.)

Anyway, Real Deal House Husband is a nice guy and he patiently explained to me how my designs for a kitchen table would not work unless the table was only going to be used for very light origami. And we went to his PC and he showed me his designs for a Santa's sledge he is knocking up for the local charity shop's Christmas drive. I thought we were getting somewhere until I noticed he had filed the link on his PC to househusbandnot under a folder called Stupid Stuff.

Back at home on Sunday evening, we watched a tv show last night called Tribe which has some ex-soldier who looks like Tim Roth going to hang out with small tribes in Africa and learning their ancient unspoiled ways. It is all v cool and interesting, although I am guessing that the programme's producers have to buy the participating tribes top of the range 4x4s or something to help them recover from the ignominy of letting whitey hang out with them for a week. ("He jumps like a girl" - this from an eight year old boy watching our hero join in on a pre-slaughtering of bullock jump up.) There was way too much drinking of ox blood for Sunday supper time viewing (it put me right off my prosciutto), but everyone seemed entertained and happy with the short time spent together. [Exit Tribe Chief and mates in new 4x4 to nearest lap dancing club with decent all you can eat buffet.]

I don't know how much more Real Deal House Husband could have put up with me with my like a girl table designs and lack of understanding about his ways. But like real anthropologists, I am sure he will be studying for any long-term changes, and also google-earthing me every so often just to make sure I don't try and make the table.