The Princess and I are going to Ireland for the weekend leaving the men to fend for themselves. Due to the Princess’s chronic inability to get out the door on time and my belated discovery that I would have to leave work at 11.00 to get a 3.00pm Ryanair flight, I have taken the day off work. I told my lovely, right on boss and, of course, it was fine. We had a more general conversation, as follows:
My lovely, right on, boss: So, J [his wife] has put her back out and there’s a problem with the car so I’m taking E to and from the creche every day on the bus.
Me: Sympathetic murmur.
Conversation moves to more work related topics.
My lovely etc. boss: So, I sent the papers out at about 6.30 last night.
Me: 6.30? 6.30?? What time does E’s creche close?
My lovely etc. boss: Oh I’d collected her by then. I sent the mail from the bus while holding E on the other knee.
Me: Goodness, men are the new women.