So, how does he manage it? He lands on his feet every time. I had threatened him with a party. A celebration, no less, as he celebrates a Significant Birthday in a few weeks time – and on a Saturday night, it seemed as if it was meant to be.
He does not care for a fuss. Especially if it reminds him of his scaringly advancing years (he is significantly older than me, natch). So, I hadn’t done anything about it, but had relied on my usual enthusiastic puppyish ‘ooh, lets, it’ll be fun’ and last-minute invitations sent out before he had time to realise he had been suckered again.
But he has been lucky again. We have been invited to a party the next day, Sunday lunchtime. By friends whom he has known over 40 years, who are about to retire to France. Of course, we want to go. And, preferably, not with hangovers and mounds of washing-up to do. I think I need to scale down preparations for this party. Maybe a couple of friends and the family for supper? Maybe a little something just for the two of us? And oh goodness, now I will have to major on a present.
He’s the worst person in the world to buy presents for. I did really well two Christmases ago, but since then I can’t actually remember what I have given him (except the gift of my smile of course) so presents have presumably been okay but not remarkable. But I am clueless this time. Bricks for the wall? A special breed of chicken? Jelly babies?
Why is it that women are so easy to buy the perfect present for and men are so difficult?