Heavenly Beverley : Procrastination, Tantrums and Success (All in One Day)

Yesterday was one of those days that would try the patience of a saint. I had hoped for an orderly, organised, enjoyable day (albeit busy). Michael and his anxiety levels had other plans.

My beloved husband can be a paragon of tolerance, patience, efficiency and logic. When he is on the straight and narrow and all in well in his world.

However, throw a dollop of stress into the mix and Michael morphs into a completely different creature. This change bears no similarity to a pebble being skipped across a pond, creating gentle ripples. Think of chucking a solid concrete block into a bathtub and watch the result.

Michael also has an amazing ability to weave and dodge any situation that may cause him stress. His chief form of defence is Procrastination.

Let me explain. With the help of my darling Dad's estate, we now have the necessary funds to build our courtyard wall, lay the brick paving and give us some much-desired privacy. No more looking at the bland, boring, battered corrugated iron sheets that form part of the workshop behind us. We can glimpse the completion of Station House, with her front cottage garden, carports. courtyards and masses of pot plants. *sigh of happy anticipation*

Michael wants the outside finishing touches as much as me. However, he needed to write and send an e-mail to the engineer who is drawing the plans for the footings and wall. I have been asking him to attend to this task all week. He had managed to wriggle out of even starting this e-mail over several days. Finally, I'd had enough. Although we had a full day planned in the Big Smoke, I refused to budge until he had actually done the deed.

Cue intense anxiety. Michael diverted and delayed. Then as he painfully began to compose the e-mail, he begged me for help. He had no idea as to the location of the supporting documents he wanted to send. I found them. He'd already loaded them previously onto a thumb drive. Then he wanted to remeasure spaces we'd already measured. Except he recorded the details this time. Then he wanted me to scan and print a myriad of documents. I had to find and replace the ink canister. After much blood, sweat and tears (his, not mine), he finished this instrument of torture and pressed "send".

Cue panic. "It's gone" was his cry of anguish. "I don't know where it's gone!" I was in the middle of the vacuuming at this point. We swapped. I sat at his computer and tried to work out the chaos of his "sent items". However, the e-mail was not difficult to find. Yes, it was there; yes, he had sent it.

Disaster averted.

We left for Midland after one thirty. Stopped for a late takeaway lunch. Arrived at our destination just before three. Over the space of an hour, we bought new pocket cameras for both of us, a selfie stick, ink cartridges, a couple of small frames for cards, a fan tower, two sets of sheets, two cushion covers, extra large pillowslips and an extra coffee plunger. If I'd also bought a partridge in a pear tree, I doubt I would have noticed.

Barry, our designated assistant in Harvey Norman's, looked like Michael felt. Barry had tipped an entire cup of (fortunately) cold coffee all over himself. The result was a very tall chap who looked like he'd fallen in the briar patch.

Michael had deserted me in my shopping frenzy after we'd finished at Harvey Norman's. He played Tetris whilst I was in both the "discount tent" outside Harvey Norman's and then Spotlight. I had to bellow to alert him of my presence each time I returned to the car.

Last stop before five was the lighting establishment. Michael insisted on coming this time. Walking in, I was in lighting heaven. With fifteen minutes to go, I swept up six cheap and cheerful indoor fittings and two outdoor ones. As we approached the desk, Michael announced "I should look at those lights we still have in storage..." I held my breath so I wouldn't smack him there and then. I'd been asking him to look at those lights for three months.

Kirsty, on reception, asked if I'd been into Beacon Lighting before. I responded, "no because you would have remembered me!" All the staff burst into fits of laughter. I love leaving people giggling in my wake.

Michael refused to leave the car at both First Choice or the supermarket. He was lucky I didn't buy a bucket of coal instead of vino. Finally, we turned Goldie eastwards and headed for home.

John the publican asked us if we had a late note when we arrived for dinner at seven-thirty. The Atlantic Salmon and chips had never tasted so good. And the usual suspects were there for entertainment.

Just after nine, I staggered into bed. Michael sat up watching a war movie. And he did have the last laugh. When he eventually crawled in next to me, he was instantly asleep. That gave his mind the all-clear to begin processing the day. He kept chatting until the wee small hours of the morning.

"SHUT UP Michael!"...

Michael in happy mode.