Tales of the Cuban Missile Crisis

There I was, in my deep-sea diving suit ready to clean the shower, when all of a sudden there was a knock on the door. I looked through the spy-hole and… I couldn’t believe it! It was the man I’d been having a red-hot love affair with on the internet for many months and – there he was! – standing on my doormat clutching a bottle of dark rum and a box of cigars. My mother had warned me against falling for Fidel Castro, but I’d always had a thing for unkempt beards and aging communist dictators. I looked at my calendar and there, clear as crystal, it was… “Fidel coming – do not clean shower today!”. I’d forgotten! Damn it! Now what was I to do?

Absent-mindedness is an awful thing. Have you ever woken up in the morning to find that you’ve put the cat in the fridge and let the butter out for the night? My cat hasn’t spoken to me for a long time now. Still, it’s better than what happened to the dog… I knew I’d had one of my terrible episodes when I noticed the ready-basted oven-ready chicken on the end of the leash halfway to the newsagents, then I came to the dreadful realization as to what was really in the oven. It was horrible… well, maybe not horrible but tough, odd-tasting and – what’s worse – I couldn’t find a suitable gravy.

So what did I do? I did what any sensible, respectable English girl would do – I made a cup of tea, broken open a packet of chocolate biscuits and watched “Come Dine With Me” whilst Fidel cleaned the shower. If he’s a good little dictator I may let him point his Cuban missile at me later! Just goes to show – if you count your chickens before they’re hatched, then you get tempted to make an omelette.

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About A.D.S.

You are reading the musings of a music-obsessed forty-something who was brought up on The Beatles, lived through Britpop and now spends his time in pursuit of the best music around. This 'blog gives me an outlet to write about the huge number of albums I buy and the many gigs I go to. All of the opinions expressed are my own and if you don't agree with me, then I understand - music is a very personal thing. I like to receive comments, especially if they're nice ones.
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