Flying chocolates

In an out of character moment Mr Smith bought me my absolutely favourite Belgian chocolates. I was so chuffed and felt a great chocolate urge coming on.

Yesterday I made plans, lavish and difficult plans, to go to Suffolk at the end of May to join my parents, my brother and his family at my grandmother's house for the bank holiday weekend. I carefully checked the dates with Mr Smith and made all the arrangements. We will be staying in a hotel as the house will be full. Not now we won't; Mr Smith has declared he's playing golf in Kent and can't possibly come. I was so so so angry. I was Mrs Angry of Angryville. I threw his bloody chocolates at him and was about to cut his trousers up into little bits followed by him. I was very shouty. I sent him off to take the Apprentice to Croydon - I couldn't drive as I was too angry. I would have had road rage and crashed. I think he was quite pleased to have a reprieve from my tirade.

We made it up later; he agreed to go Suffolk the following day which means he can still play golf and I still get to see my family and we still stay in a hotel. I cooked us a nice dinner after which we tentatively opened the chocolates. They looked a little traumatised, some requiring first aid (the strawberry cream and truffles were in need of major surgery) due to their air crash. We ate them anyway and my temper improved. Sometimes Mr Smith can be too golfy for his own good.