My better quarter a.k.a Malaysian driver in GlastonBuri
March 15, 2015 Babe 0 Comments
My husband has problem with noise. A MAJOR PROBLEM WITH NOISE!
In the early years, I was worried, afraid even that this would become our unraveling (that and the fact he thought I should lose a wee bit of weight although I am beautiful, stunning etc.) We moved from our first hovel in Kinshasa because the twenty odd Mamas who kindly cleaned, laundered and ironed convened daily discussions through the windows of our semi-serviced apartment compound. Our poor security guards got a telling to when they had their scratchy transistor radios on or were talking in the early morning while Monsieur was trying to sleep. In mai pen rai Thailand, it’s the local friendly concert…too friendly for him.
While I live in a trail of assorted ear plugs and plummeting moods, meneertje has other qualities worth mentioning, blogging even, such as his ability to gain 1kg after six months of eating a slice of cake just about everyday. Hence “better quarter” as I was, at one humiliating point, actually heavier than him. Nothing to do of course with the strict equality we maintain in our household: I have an opinion, he questions it; I choose tiles for our up and coming pad and he says “Oh la la” in disbelieving tones; I want to buy dresses every week…he can’t believe it.
Which brings us to the weighty issue of driving. We’ve been braving the manic Thai roads from Mae Sot to Chiang Mai which involves a curvy stretch of irreverent trucks and just excellent Thai driving for the rest of the way. Useless husband is a PRINCIPLED driver where his principles include:
(i) if you don’t use your indicators I don’t give two s***s;
(ii) what is taking you so long to switch lanes, get into parking, get out of parking…just driving generally;
(iii) I drive on the right, unless there’s someone coming from behind and he’s faster…but normally I’m faster.
I’m reduced to being someone’s mother going”caaarreful…!!!” every 10 minutes while trying to subtly tell him that he is perhaps, and it’s only my opinion, going a wee bit too fast? I laugh nervously when, instead of waiting, he squeezes past a car on a single lane that’s stopped momentarily to make a right turn. I joke about how much he drives like my fellow countrymen, pushing past cars he knows full well is trying to change lanes (this is where the indicator argument comes in handy). Am still the supportive wife, apologising for being a pain on the passenger seat.
It finally took a weekend of class Formula One driving, maneuvering between a songtaew and a car on a narrow road for me to take this up with the manager. I cleverly mention that our little rented sedan may not take 140km/hour on wrinkled weather beaten roads which did the trick and then proceeded, still with a touch of good humour, to criticise his driving like any wife worth her salt. Useless Husband admits defeat and idiocy, tells me I’m wonderful and promises to do better behind the wheel. I tell him he always brings us home in one piece and is otherwise the Dude of my life. And I feel quite chuffed that while still the ‘One that Does Not See the Point in Questioning Every Single Little Thing in Life’, I can hold me own before the’One who Will Question Most Things in Life, especially Anything Involving Organised Religion’.
….Well, it helped that his father told him he drives too fast…and you haven’t seen the meneer drive!
That still leaves me with the noise conundrum but we have a lifetime together to figure this out.
Incidentally Useless Husband is the real Writer here: http://tetheredbyletters.com/tommy/
He really IS the best.