Tuesday, May 02, 2006

There is no escaping the panic…

Why is it that no matter how many lists I make, or how many post-it’s I accumulate, I am still convinced I will forget something as we leave Glasgow on Saturday for London. We fly out to NZ on the Monday.
Ashley is very laid back about the whole thing; then again her version of packing for a trip involves throwing EVERYTHING she owns into a big fuck-off case and leaving me to worry about the details.
Its not until we are on a plane does she quietly ask me “Did you pack my hair straighteners and my allergy medication?”
“No, because that’s your stuff to pack!” I answer.
So this time I urged her to make a list of her important things to do.
I saw this list and do you know what it says?

1- Pack knickers and new bra
2- Ipod charger
3- New shoes and plasters for heels

So where are all the really important things, like medication, bank cards, tripod and camera?
I assume she has all this in her head, it makes me mental. I am mentally packing and unpacking in my fucking sleep.
I have a few big events to pack for, like the BAFTA TV awards, then the TV2 Gala in NZ and the Divas Comedy gala. I need to pack some fancy frocks.

Husband is quietly padding about the flat staring at me today; he actually stared and stared until I asked him what was going on.
“I am just making sure that I wont forget how you look” He answered.
“Well if you ever forget in the four weeks I am away, there are videos of me on my website then you can remember” I told him.
“I don’t want to remember you through videos. I want to recall how you look sitting there in my head”
To get him off this morose subject matter, I said “Do you love me?”
“Yes, you know I do” he said.
“Ok, if I our love was a country which country would it be then?” I laughed, as he hated anything that asked his Aspergers brain to be creative.

He never even paused for breath
“Italy, it would be Italy, as I don’t know where I am most of the time, I don’t understand the language, I am not familiar with the currency, Italy’s leader had to be thrown out as he couldn’t accept he was outvoted and there is a constant power struggle there, Italians are curvy and dark and well dressed, they talk loudly and are full of passion, but underneath they are just as soft as fresh pasta! So our love would be Italy”

I looked at him and laughed but with affection as he never could have rehearsed that, I pull these questions out of nowhere and I have never asked him that before.
“Good answer!” I said, and I meant it. That was a good answer, my husband is the quiet man, the man who stands back and watches the two women in his life perform and talk loud.
I am worried he will miss Ashley and let it get him down. He is used to not seeing me but those two are very rarely parted.
She is being very offhand and brave saying stuff like “I wont really miss papa, I will be fine”
Trust me this girl will get to week two and cry on the phone to her beloved daddy. He will probably get on a plane and wing it to NZ , it doesn’t matter how old she is, he is still the number one person in her life, and no one can replace that. Not even me.
So with that in mind maybe she should stuff her daddy into her case, to be honest he would probably fit into the case she has dragged into the hall, it looks like the kind of luggage used for carting bodies around and with her fathers history with gangland connections …..Who knows maybe I should check her case before we leave!

1 comment:

guile said...

nice, cozy place you got here :)..