A few Titsvillians have mentioned that they would like a post about the ‘hubby notes’. I’ve been popping the ‘hubby notes’ on more or less since I joined Substack in April 2025. I don’t know why, but people seemed to like them. Maybe because my husband is ‘unusual’ #bekind. Who knows. It’s not within my capacity, intellectually or otherwise, to decipher the workings of the Substack algorithms and/or the preferences of it’s users, my job is simply to provide some nonsense to read and appreciate, from the bottom of my heart, all those who can be arsed to read it. Titsvillans really are the best Substackers!
Anyway, I wasn’t sure it warranted a full post given that I usually stick them on Substack notes as they happen. So I thought what I could do, is collate them every so often and stick them into a post, so that you can have a nosey whenever it takes your fancy.
I’ll start with a quick word about our marriage. It’s probably as boring as most people’s. That’s it. Right, here’ we go.
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Hubby is having a dilemma involving Cocopops.
Me- That breakfast looks healthy
Hubby- yeah…
Me- You don’t sound enthusiastic.
Hubby- I’m not. I’m missing my Cocopops.
Me- What’s wrong with your Cocopops?
Hubby- Everything. They’ve changed.
Me- You mean they have gone from nasty, sugary balls of puffed shite to something even worse?
Hubby- Sort of. They used to be dusty and now they’re shiny.
Me- Dusty?
Hubby- Yes. They used to be covered in a chocolate dust that turned your milk into chocolate milk
Me- and now they are…?
Hubby- glazed and shiny
Me- and your milk is just milk?
Hubby- It’s a bit chocolatey but not properly chocolatey like it was when it was dusty.
Me- Is this one of the most disappointing things you’ve ever experienced?
Hubby- Almost.
Me- You should embrace change Grasshopper. You must spread the branches of your tree towards the sun, or the roots will fester and mould and your tree will wither.
Hubby- It won’t though will it, cos that’s not how trees work.
Me- OK no, but the sentiment was fabulous.
Hubby- It was. It’s inspired me to go and buy some Supermarket brand Cocopops to see if they are dusty.
Me- Excellent decision.
He’s smiling as he eats his porridge. It doesn’t take much 🙄 🥣.
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After watching Louis Theroux Hubby is obsessed.
Hubby - I’m going to join that manosphere.
Me- You wouldn’t dare darling
Hubby - That’s true
Me- How about you pop the kettle in instead
Hubby- OK.
Two hours later…
Hubby- So, I’ve booked an Only Fans girl to take to Dean’s Garden Centre
Me- That’s lovely. It’s a bit nippy for a bikini
Hubby- I told her to bring her big coat
Me- That’s nice
Probably to be continued…
And that’s what you call a real man ❤️
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Watching a drama starring Holliday Grainger sparked yet another deeply intellectual conversation between me and hubby:
Hubby- Fancy naming your child after a Madonna song.
Me- Mmm… but if you think about it quite a few Madonna songs could be names.
Hubby- Like what? I’m not sure anyone would want to be called, ‘This used to be my Playground’
Me- God, you’re hilarious. I mean single word ones. What about Vogue as in Vogue Williams.
Hubby- Is that a real person?
Me- Yes. Or you could have Cherish or Rain.
Hubby- Would Erotica work?
Me- Probably not in primary school.
Hubby- So basically, out of Madonna’s 500 hits only 4 could be names.
Me- You could be named Borderline after your personality disorder.
Hubby- You could be called Frozen after what you do when it’s your turn to put the kettle on.
Me- You could be called Fever after your endless bouts of man flu
Hubby- You could be called Secret after that chocolate stash you have in the top cupboards that you think I don’t know about.
Me- I’ve run out of single word Madonna songs now
Hubby- Shall we watch the drama then?
Me- The one with Like a Virgin Grainger in it?
Hubby- That’s the one.
And so it went on, into the night… 🙄
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Here’s a bit of hypocrisy (and a little denial on hubby’s part) in action. Hubby and I live in Jeans and twenty year old tee shirts most days, often with splashes of paint on them and the occasionally iron mark. That’s working from home for you. But this doesn’t stop us having conversations about fashion like people who regularly take tea with Anna Wintour. Like this…
Hubby is nodding off when I see something on telly that I simply have to show him.
Me- Oh Jesus, look at that woman’s top, it’s awful. Candy pink with a big flower stuck in it.
Hubby- Eh?
Me- Look, quick!
Hubby - Why do you think I’d be interested in that?
Me- Because you love slagging off people’s clothes
Hubby- I don’t. I’m not that vacuous
Me- You do. And you are. Remember when we used to slag off morning news presenters outfits? You said that blonde woman’s red suit made her look like a ‘Butlin’s hooker’.
Hubby- It was the white edging.
Me- I know. And then you said that bloke on the design show’s outfit looked like ‘Star Wars Storm Trooper meets Filey chapter of the Hell’s Angels’.
Hubby- Oh yeah. It was. All that white leather. Yuk. Anyway, you were as bad.
Me- I was not
Hubby - You were. When we lived in the flat you would sit in the kitchen window pointing out the commuters outfits and when you saw a bad one you would say, “get the gun darling”
Me- It was a joke. Sort of. Anyway, just look at that top
Hubby - Dear God that really is awful
Me- isn’t it.
We need a new hobby 🙄
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Hubby doesn’t half complicate things. I was putting together an IKEA flatpack bookcase today and, wanting to help, he produced enough DIY tools to build a small semi-detached with conservatory.
Me- What are they for?
Hubby- To put it together.
Me- I’ll have you know that when I got my first flat I put together an entire living room’s worth of furniture with a table knife and a stiletto heel.
Hubby- Fine. Knock yourself out
*Building commences *bang, wallop, swear, bang, bang, swear, take off glasses and wipe steam off, bang, swear, mop brow, swear, swear,swear.
*Mum-in-law walks in.
Me- Noooo do not enter. There’s a lot of swearing going on in here. I’ve even made a few new ones up.
MIL- Oh, ok *shuffles off
Later…much later…
Hubby - Finished then?
Me- Finally. It was a nightmare. Half of it was chipped, the back bit wouldn’t fit. I’m knackered.
Hubby- Good. My mother needed a lie down…oh dear
Me- What?
Hubby- Looks like you put the bottom shelf on the wrong way round. You can see the chipboard
Me- NO
Hubby- Are you going to start swearing again?
Me- There’s a very high probability
Hubby *wincing- I think you’ll have to take that all apart again.
Me- Get out
Hubby- Would you like me to get you some tools?
Me - GET OUUUUUUUUUT!
So, that was my day 😬 Happy weekend folks! 🔨🔧🔩
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I don’t like to stereotype but the hubby’s inability to multi-task hit a new high this morning.
Me- Where you going?
Hubby - The DIY shop
Me- Can you call and get some bread and milk from Morrisons?
Hubby- I can’t, I’m going to the DIY shop
Me- But the bread and milk shop is literally a few yards down the road
Hubby- But I can’t
Me- why?
Hubby - Because I’m going to the DIY shop
Me- As answers go, that is a really crap answer. Maybe you could elaborate…
Hubby *sits down and settles in to elaborate. - Well, because I’ve psyched myself up to go to the DIY shop. I’ve spent time envisioning myself walking the aisles, looking at things I like looking at, choosing the tools I need for the job, pondering on the problem that needs solving. None of that involves looking at loaves.
Me- So bread’s not in your head?
Hubby- Absolutely not
Me- Just hammers and drill bits and metal things?
Hubby- Yes, all that and more
Me- So we eat nails for breakfast
Hubby- We do
Me- Nails might be nice toasted, with a bit of marmite on
Hubby- It’s good to try new things
Me- Marriage is nothing like in the movies is it?
Hubby- Only the Hammer House of Horrors. I’m off now, bye
And he’s gone. I’m now going to hide his toolkit at the neighbour’s house until he goes back to Morrisons for some bread and milk. Problem solved 😁
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Life with an engineer 🤔- Hubby decides to take over mopping because he likes the pedal action spinny mop. Ten minutes later, having got bored and abandoned the mop and bucket in the hall, he contemplates his experience.
Hubby- I’ve worked something out.
Me- oh God.
Hubby- If you make sure all the mop bits drop down into the spinny bit and don’t splay outwards you can make it spin faster.
Me- OK
Hubby- So what you need to do is soak it and allow the weight of the water to pull the mop strands down…
Me- Paddy
Hubby- …no wait. So drop them down and then start pumping the…
Me- Paddy stop
Hubby- …hang on. Pump the pedal and the spinny bit will build up momentum faster and the centrifugal force will…
Me- That’s just called mopping.
Hubby- Yes but you could be better at spinny mopping.
Me- Do you know what I give no fucks about most in the world? My spinny mopping abilities.
Hubby- Well, if you’re not interested in the science…
*he looks disappointed
Me- Oh I am. Then you could teach me about the history of spinny mopping. Then what about ‘how spinny mops are made’, I’d love that.
Hubby- I don’t know about that. I just know the science.
Me- Except you don’t do you, cos you just made it up?
Hubby- That’s true. Shall we leave the spinny mopping and go to the pub?
Me- That’s an excellent idea.
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I’m off crutches and walking fine but my foot is a bit sore. I mention it to hubby, thereby instigating the ailment wars.
Me- my foot is still sore
Hubby- I’ve got a weird tickle in my ear
Me- that sounds like a really serious disease that I heard about on radio
Hubby - what’s that?
Me- tickle in the ear syndrome
Hubby- ohhh snippy.
Me- you ask for it
Hubby- what about you with your women’s things?
Me- like what?
Hubby - being snippy
Me- well you’d be snippy if you had ‘women’s things’.
Hubby - I’m not snippy about my tickle ear
Me- because it’s not really like say, menopause is it, when you’re not able to concentrate on more than one thing at a time, can’t sleep, night sweats, and all you want to do is fuck everyone off and do your own thing without interruption.
Hubby- that’s not menopause, that’s just being a man. You just turned into a man.
Me *in best deep voice. - tits look good in that top luv
Hubby- See…..Still not as bad as my ear tickle though
🙄
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Whenever hubby says “I’ve figured it out,” I wilt like a knackered daffodil . It usually means he’s made up some nonsensical ‘Paddy-science’ that involves making tenuous or non-existent links to disparate ‘things’ before reaching an utterly bizarre conclusion.
Today he’s “figured out” what’s causing his neck ache.
Hubby- Ive figured it out
Me- Oh Christ
Hubby - I’ve been thinking, you know if I was ever kidnapped and tortured, let’s say, by the KGB
Me- why the KGB?
Hubby- Cos I’ve just watched a film about them, but any torturey organisation will suffice.
Me- Any organisation who needs to know the secrets of electrical engineering?
Hubby- Yes. Anyway, if they wanted to torture me I think I’d survive anything except for torture by air-con
Me- air conditioning?
Hubby- Yes. You see I’m very averse to it. It’s not natural.
Me- OK, so you’d be fine with electrocution and waterboarding but a blast of air-con and you’d sing like a canary?
Hubby- Yes
Me- OK but here’s the problem with your theory. We don’t actually have air-con, so you’ve “figured out…” what, exactly?
Hubby - that the problem is shorts. Wearing shorts.
Me- Shorts?
Hubby- Yes. Every time I wear shorts in the car the car air-con sends a draught up my leg and I always get a bad neck.
*rubs neck as if this proves the point.
Me- So you’ve got a bad neck because you wear shorts?
Hubby- I’m never wearing shorts in the car again when the air con is on. Long trousers from now on for me.
Me- You do right to be cautious
Hubby- It’s not just necks. It can affect every body part. It’s not natural.
Me- You really should tell the world about the dangers of air-con. Who knows how many lives you’ll save.
Hubby- Good point. Get it on your Substack thingy.
Me- I will.
So here goes: Air-con wrecks lives people- you heard it here first. 🙄
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I walk into the kitchen and hubby is cleaning up.
Hubby- They say that you should face a challenge head on but that’s not always true is it?
Me- Suppose it’s not, why?
Hubby- Well, sometimes you have to ask yourself, is the challenge worth it?
Me- I guess you do, at times.
Hubby- But if you decide that it is worth it, do you really have to go full head on, or are there other ways?
Me- Well yes, sometimes challenges require careful planning.
Hubby- Absolutely. Sometimes it’s best to bypass the strong points and go round the back door, so to speak.
Me- But isn’t it the difficult part that makes something a challenge?
Hubby- Yeah, but why bother if you can just go for a sliding tackle.
Me- We’re talking about football aren’t we?
Hubby- What did you think we were talking about?
Me- Life.
Hubby- Football is life.
Me- Put the kettle on Paddy
Hubby- ok. Hobnob?
Me- Yes you are. 🙄
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Me and hubby are in the car talking about the dog, who will be left on his own for a couple of hours.
Me- Are you sure you locked the door?
Hubby- No I left it open with a note for the dognappers on it saying ‘well behaved dog inside, help yourself’.
Me- Ok clever dick. Did you leave him a few biscuits?
Hubby - I laid him out a three course meal on a set of silver platters.
Me- You’re hilarious
Hubby - You spoil that dog.
Me- I don’t like leaving him too long
Hubby - He’ll be fine. You’re too soft with him.
Me - So are you!
Hubby - I’m not.
Me- you are.
*repeat last two lines for 5 miles then follow it with a long silence
Me - Did you leave the telly on?
Hubby - Yes. I put him Downton Abbey on, then after that there’s a programme on about polar bears. He’ll like that.
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I’ve been married to an electrical engineer for 19 years and I often amuse myself by pretending to electrocute myself on things when he walks into a room. It’s not everyone’s idea of a hobby, I know. Anyway, a while ago, I was pretending I was being electrocuted by the Nutribullet just as hubby was walking into another room, shaking his head and wishing he’d married that lass from the chip shop. After 19 years it’s not funny for him anymore, it’s not funny for me anymore - it’s just something that we do - but it was definitely not funny for the horrified, passing Ramblers that were staring through my open kitchen window. Luckily, I found Substack, so I do this now instead. The walkers of North Yorkshire are probably delighted.
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Hubby’s advice as I set off for a safari holiday.
Hubby- only go near things that are slower than you
Me- *stares…blinks…stares
Hubby- Ants. Only go near ants.
So off we go. See you in a couple of weeks Substack 😁
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Deranged through lack of sleep while on granny duties, I was in Tesco this morning, venting on the phone to hubby.
Me- … and the other thing, I can’t make any modern baby equipment work.
Hubby- like what?
Me- like the pram, the walker, everything, and don’t get me started on the fucking car seat.
Hubby- what’s wrong with the fucking car seat?
Me- It won’t do stuff. Like swivel when it’s supposed to swivel. It’s a bastard. I want to tear it out, throw it into the car park and beat it with an axe. Like Basil Fawlty when he battered that car with a stick. I mean really…really.. smash…it…up.
*I realise I’m doing axe murdering movements with my free arm just as I notice a frightened looking woman side-eyeing me and shuffling away.
Me *whispering - and now I’ve frightened a lady in Tesco
Hubby- You’re not really a conventional grandma are you?
Me- what’s that mean?
Hubby - My grandmother never swore and frightened people in Tesco.
Me - Your grandmother didn’t have prams that needed a degree in engineering to operate, or baby car seats. She just threw all the kids in the back of a van with cushions and some crisps and hoped for the best.
Hubby- fair point.
Me- why is it all so complicated. I’m too tired for it all to be so complicated.
Hubby- You’re home tomorrow. Me and Walter miss you loads.
And that’s when I stood in the dairy aisle and cried a bit. Cos I’m tired, I want to go home and everything modern is complicated. Grandmothering is lovely, apart from those times when you get a bit unhinged in Tescos. Twenty-four hours to go and counting…
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Hubby and I have just had our annual ‘when to put the heating on’ argument. It happens between November and December each year and goes something like this:
Me- it’s freezing. Let’s get the heating on.
Hubby- Put a jumper on.
Me- I have jumpers on. In the plural. I look like Pavarotti.
Hubby- I wouldn’t say that.
Me- I wasn’t looking for compliments on my arse size. Just warmth.
Hubby- It’s not that cold. You’re just sensitive.
Me- if my skin was on a Farrow & Ball colour chart it would be called Mortuary Blue.
Hubby- Now come on, you know the heating doesn’t go on until you turn Coffin Grey.
Me- I’m walking towards the boiler now.
Hubby- Nooo. Stop. It’s not cold enough yet.
Me- I’m walking…
Hubby- Nooo! Stop!
*repeat last two lines approximately 6 times.
Me- I’m putting the heating on and if you try to stop me you will be murdered. *stares at the kitchen knives in conspicuous manner.
Hubby- I’ll go put a tee shirt on then.
Me- You do that my love.
Every.Bloody.Year. 🙄
Hubby has man-flu today so must lounge on the sofa, posed like a Roman Caesar having his grapes peeled, for the duration. He will not move now until he’s well. Anyway, he’s bored so I regale him with my latest Substack news, which is that I have somehow ended up in the #18 Rising in Humour bestsellers thing. I tell him this, and before I can explain it he seems to perk up. *for the unaware, hubby knows nothing about social media or Substack.
Hubby - Oh. Well… now that’s good isn’t it. You might become famous.
Me - I don’t think it works like that
Hubby - Hey. You don’t know. You could be the next big name.
Me - No, I said, it doesn’t really work…
Hubby *sitting up a bit - You could go on that Apollo programme on telly
Me - What? I’m not a stand-up com…
Hubby - Hey, think of it, you could be bigger than Ricky Jervais in no time.
Me - Paddy I think you need to take a breath.
Hubby - No, what needs to happen is you need to get practicing.
Me - For what
Hubby - for fame, for stardom. Hey, we could be rich
Me * to myself with with head on table - Why did I tell him, why did I tell...
Hubby - Imagine, an Aston Martin, a house with a swimming pool, a…
Me - OK. Stop. I don’t know exactly how this works but I’m pretty sure that by next week I won’t be in ‘bestsellers’ because it’s just an algorithm thing and something triggered it to do that and something will trigger it to not do that.
Hubby - You don’t really know what you’re talking about do you?
Me - No. But I know more than you. You need to come to terms with your loss.
Hubby - It’s hard
Me - I know
Hubby - Are you sure.
Me - Absolutely. Ricky Jervais is safe. I won’t be taking up stand-up comedy.
Hubby - you could try…
Me - I could but I won’t because it’s not happening.
Hubby - so no swimming pool then?
Me - No love, I’m sorry. No pool. No car.
Hubby - I was feeling better for a minute.
Me- I’m sorry. Better crack back on with the man-flu.
Hubby - OK.
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14th August 2025
This is what a supportive husband looks like:
Hubby - So what sort of things do people write about on Substack?
Me - Oh well, the arts, culture, politics, lifestyle pieces, therapy, dealing with trauma, self-care, books and films, all sorts really.
Hubby - So what are you writing about?
Me - Weeing.
Hubby - Weeing?
Me - Yes, weeing.
Hubby - As in… weeing?
Me - Yes.
Hubby - Cool. I love a bit of weeing, me.
And for anyone who wants to read it…
https://katedalby.substack.com/p/we-just-dont-talk-enough-about-weeing
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13th August 2025
*I read an article about a woman who didn’t feel seen by her husband so I thought I’d test my own relationship by putting the remote control on my head and asking hubby where it was. He spent a ten minutes looking under cushions and moving things around the coffee table and sofa.
Hubby- It’s gone. We will just have to watch this channel.
Me- Are you sure you can’t find it?
Hubby - You saw me looking. It’s gone.
Me - So that’s that then, we have to watch U&DaveJaVu forever?
Hubby - looks like it.
Me - You know the problem here don’t you? I don’t feel seen.
Hubby - How seen do you want to be?
Me- Seener than I am.
Hubby - more seen than U&DaveJaVu?
Me - yes. I’m so much more than that
Hubby - OK I’ll sit and watch you until we can change the channel.
*he turns and sees the remote control on my head.
Hubby - You’re bored because you have to sit with your knackered leg up aren’t you?
Me - A bit
Follow me for more tips on keeping the romance alive.
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28th July 2025 - A bit different but I thought I’d chuck it in!
It’s our 9th wedding anniversary (although we have been together for 19 very very very long years) I would like to share a few thoughts about the hubby.
He always has really useful suggestions. For example only this morning he said “don’t forget to put your face cream on cos if you get your head stuck in some railings they’ll be able to get you out quicker.”
He always flops down on the sofa without looking and breaks whatever he lands on, including electrical items, crockery and small pets.
He doesn’t understand the point of scatter cushions, irons or eating one donut when you can eat 5, but he does understand why men cry when their football team loses.
He is an imaginative if unconventional cook. His signature dishes include banananaan (banana in a naan bread sandwich), dog bowl curry (a 50p can of chicken curry mixed with frozen mixed veg and rice) and a plate of broccoli (a plate of broccoli)
If I do or say something romantic he stares blankly at me with a slightly furrowed brow like he is trying to work out who I am and why I’m speaking in Russian.
If he does or says anything romantic I stare at him blankly with a slightly furrowed brow like I’m trying to work out who he is and why he’s speaking in Russian.
His ‘compliments’ are poetic. Examples are: a) you’re not fat, well you are if you were a ballerina. b) we’re meant to be together cos let’s face it, no one else would have us c) when you’ve got your hair down you look like, whatshisname, Garth off Wayne’s World.
When undertaking DIY he will finish the job, even at the risk of being murdered. Like that time he needed some wire for something so he cut the cable off my hair straighteners.
All that said, he is the best person I know and he makes me laugh until I cry every single day and for that I wouldn’t swop I’m for the world. Thinking about it though, I might swop him for Cillian Murphy... yes...yes I think I would definitely swop him for Cillian....
Happy Anniversary Paddy ❤️
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23rd July 2025
Hubby, who now refers to himself as ‘the surgeon’ (but I call him Florence Shiteingale) had to put a dressing on a cut on my shoulder. This should involve simply taking a wound dressing out of a packet and putting it on, but as ever, it’s not that simple. I’m half dressed, it’s cold.
Hubby- this dressing’s too small
*i pass him another one out the first aid box
Hubby- that’s too big
*pass him another one
Hubby- this one’s not got sticky stuff on
*goes to look in lots of cupboards for dressing tape for 15 minutes
Hubby- can’t find it but I can improvise with this (*produces something that looks like a sanitary pad) and this (*produces packet of small plasters) and these (*gets scissors and starts to cut the pad up)
Me- oh ffs Paddy just stick the big one on
Hubby- trust me it won’t work it’s the wrong shape for a shoulder
Me- What? What does that even mean? Just stick it on
Hubby- No need to be snippy. I bet you didn’t get your ‘nurse’ badge before they kicked you out of the Brownies
Me- No, but I did get my ‘armed combat’ badge so can we crack on
Hubby- not until you tell me why they kicked you out of the Brownies?
Me- all you need to know is that they are still talking about it in Sheffield, so get the fkin dressing on
Hubby- mmm, snippy
*starts improvising with sanitary towel thing and plasters
Me- (10 minutes later) Thank you
Hubby - I’d make a great surgeon. I should have been a surgeon. *looks wistfully into the distance
I put my tee shirt back on. It drags ‘dressing’ off and all the way down my back where it sticks on the waistband of my jeans. He’s now run off to make dinner before he finds out how I got my ‘armed combat’ badge 🙄
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20th July 2025
When hubby goes shopping we often end up with odd purchases. Today he bought enough avocados to feed a Mexican football team 🤷♀️
Me- Why have you bought so many avocados?
Hubby- Cos they were on offer. 2 for 1.
Me- and you couldn’t just get two?
Hubby- No. You see then I’d have to go back before the offer ends and get two more, then the same the next day, and so on. So I bought enough to last.
Me- Last? Like, forever?
Hubby- I’m going to make avocado on toast. Then I’m going to put some on a pizza.
Me- Avocado pizza? Your vegetable weirdness never ends. It’s like the ‘cabbage era’ all over again.
*note- the ‘cabbage era’ refers to a period between 2007 and 2010 when his mum asked him to bring a cabbage for Sunday lunch. For reasons known only to him he thought she meant every Sunday, so he took her a cabbage every week for three years and noone mentioned it. Until I did. I asked mum if she wanted a weekly cabbage. She said “not really, but he means well.” I broke it to him gently. It stopped.
Hubby- It’s not like the ‘cabbage era’.
Me - It so is.
*repeat last two lines endlessly.
Hubby- It’s not because I won’t buy 12 avocados every week for 3 years
Me- No, but you’ll buy enough avocados to last 3 years. Still weird.
Hubby- Fair point
Me- I win then?
Hubby- Yes. You win an avocado
Me- I’m blessed.
Someone make me understand
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5th July 2025
Me (9am) - Of course I can still do wallpapering.
Hubby - You haven’t done it for years.
Me - I can do it better than you
Hubby - You can’t
Me - I can
*Repeat last 2 lines endlessly
Me - It will only take a couple of hours
Hubby - It’ll take all day
Me - It won’t
Hubby - It will
*Repeat last 2 lines endlessly
Me - I’m cracking on then. You can be my bitch.
Hubby - I’d love that
Me - You were born for it
*8 hours later
Me - It won’t end. Why won’t it end?
Hubby - Wallpapering projects never end. You just have to keep papering and papering until you fall off the ladder and die.
*30 mins later I fall off the ladder and die
Hubby - told you
My ghost- Tidy up bitch
Hubby - on it.
So that’s why I haven’t written my Substack today, because 20 years and 2 stone ago, I could have wallpapered a room in 2 hours and now I can’t. Please bear with me my lovely Titsvillians, I have to find a way to come alive again, but then it will be done. ❤️
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28th June 2025
My husband’s philosophy on life and the universe is often a bit ‘far out man’ but I thought I’d share tonight’s gem- his view of the aging process, from an aesthetic perspective. 🤦♀️
Hubby- We look right old now don’t we?
Me- Blunt, but I suppose so. Thanks for reminding me.
Hubby- Not that it really matters, cos I’ve been thinking about it.
Me- God help us. Let’s hear it then.
Hubby- OK, remember when the firm wanted to close all the offices and move into one big building?
Me- yes
Hubby- And it was a choice between that beautiful Victorian mansion house
Me- Buckingham Place or something?
Hubby- Yes. Or that horrible grey brutalist monstrosity that looked like it had been dragged over from Soviet Russia?
Me- Norwich House?
Hubby- Yes. Well everyone wanted to go to Buck place, naturally, but I didn’t. Want to know why?
Me- Can’t wait
Hubby- Well, because if we went to Norwich house, when we looked out the office window we could look at beautiful Buck Place, but if we went to Buck Place we would have to look out at that ugly old grey crumbling thing. See what I mean?
Me- Not really
Hubby- Well, I can still look at beautiful things and appreciate them and it doesn’t really matter what I look like cos I can’t see me.
Me- So I’m Norwich house?
Hubby - In a nutshell, yes, but like me, you get to look outwards so it doesn’t matter.
Me- Do I have to be Norwich House?
Hubby- We all have to be Norwich House eventually. Just concentrate on looking out the window at beautiful things.
Me- That’s deep man. I feel like Caine on Kung Fu.
Hubby- Age brings wisdom Grasshopper
Me- No shit. I’ll throw out all the mirrors then?
Hubby- mmm… didn’t think of that.
Me- mmm… You’ll always look like Buck Place to me.
Hubby- No I won’t
Me- No, you won’t
So I guess the weird moral of the story is, if you’re feeling a bit Norwich House, go look at some art or an old Victorian building or some such shit. You’ll feel so much better. I think.
Follow me for more Yorkshire philosophy 🙄
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12th June 2025
Me and the hubby were lifelong city dwellers before moving to the country, and sometimes it shows. Yesterday, we saw a herd of cows racing across a field. Later, in the pub, farmer John came in. We had some burning questions:
Farmer- Ey up
US - hiya John. Hey while you’re here, can we ask a question.
Farmer- go on then
US- Could Usain Bolt outrun a cow?
Farmer- That Olympic chap?
US- yes him.
Farmer- mmm… maybe.
US- could a normal bloke?
Farmer- mmm… maybe
US- what about a woman?
Farmer- mmm… maybe
US- what about a fit man against an old knackered cow?
Farmer - mmm… maybe
US- would it depend on how scared the cows were?
Farmer- mmm… maybe
US- Are some cows better runners than others?
Farmer- mmm…maybe. I’m going to get me pint now.
US- ok. Thanks John. If we have any more questions about cows can we come and ask you? John… John…
Funny how simple questions sound so reasonable at the time…with beer…
It’s taken a while to fit in here.
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26th May 2025
British relationship rituals- The weekly football conversation with football fanatic hubby. Here’s today’s…
Hubby- Kevin de Bruyne’s leaving Man City
Me- Awww that’s sad. Who?
Hubby- Oh, for God’s sake. Go on, say what you always say…
Me- What?
Hubby- You know what. Come on, let’s hear it
Me- I know David Beckham
Hubby- That’s the footballer you know
Me- That’s the one
Hubby- You do know Posh Spice doesn’t play football don’t you?
Me- and football is all the poorer for it
Hubby- *puts head in hands and shakes head.
Me- And they missed out on some cracking fashion advice.
Hubby- I want a divorce.
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25th May 2025
Life with a technophobic non-writer:
Hubby- What’s that thing you’re on?
Me- Substack
Hubby- And what do you call them, y’know, them people?
Me- Subscribers
Hubby- Is it like Facebook and that Tweety thing?
Me- Absolutely not
Hubby- So you write stuff and other people read it?
Me- that’s the general idea
Hubby- I might go on it
Me- What are you going to write about?
Hubby- Rock pooling and moths
Me- you’ll be a sensation.
World, prepare 😁
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20th May 2025
When a book lover tries to have a conversation with a non-book lover:
I’d just finished reading ‘Remains of the Day’. I close it with tears in my eyes.
Me- That was beautiful. Oh that ending…
Hubby- What about it?
Me- Where he says “my heart was breaking”. Just one line, but oh, it finished me.
Hubby- Books can do that to you.
Me- Can they? You only own two books: one called ‘That Remarkable Creature, the Snail’ and one about climbing chimneys with Fred Dibnah.
Hubby- That’s not true I have one about Shellfish.
Me- Oh, sorry, and one on shellfish.
Hubby - I was very moved reading about the life cycle of the mollusk.
Me- I can imagine.
Hubby- I read Candide once.
Me- Only cos you heard it was banned so you thought it was racy.
Hubby- Maybe, but I read it to the end.
Me- And did you enjoy it?
Hubby- It was ok.
Me- Not enough shellfish in it?
Hubby- No, sadly.
Me- Well, thanks for indulging me in a conversation about my novel and great works of literature, generally.
Hubby- No worries. (*turns telly on- Gold hunters, Australia comes on.) oh I love this.
I’ve lost him.
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10th May 2025
Husband- I don’t want a dog
Don’t like dogs
I’m allergic to dogs
Can’t cope with a dog
Not keen on dogs
Hard work, dogs
Oh… we got a dog.
This dog’s ok I suppose
He’s not bad really, for a dog.
Actually, I quite like our dog
Who’s my lovely little beautiful gorgeous boy then. Come to daddy 😍😍😍
The dog 👇👇👇
I’m sure there will be more to come in…
Until next time my lovely Titsvillians.
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