The Wonders Of A Wife
I was lamenting the huge pile of documents we had which needed to be shredded. Unfortunately our shredder takes a single piece of paper at a time. The pile of paper was over a foot high.
“What I really need is somewhere to burn them,” I said to K, our ayah (children’s nanny; mother’s help; general saviour of our household etc). “But we don’t have a metal bucket. I’ll look for one when I’m out next.”
And that was that.
A week or so later I spied a small brown structure in the garden. It was a chapati oven. K had made it from scratch out of the clay soil that we have around here.
“It’s for your documents,” she said. “And when you’ve finished I will have it for cooking chapatis at home.”
And so hubby and H had a happy afternoon being all manly and making fires and burning things and then, when it had all cooled down we took the oven back to K’s house for a chapati extravaganza.
Other things that K has done in the “You give me problems, I’ll give you solutions” type vein:
1. Climbed a 15 foot tree to get the ripest oranges for the boys;
2. Fashioned a swing out of some rope and a length of piping for the play park at the back of our house which was, sadly, swing-less;
3. Got us a trampoline, which had been abandoned in our next door neighbour’s garden and which the ‘works’ people had refused to move, by press-ganging her husband and some poor gardener who was passing by into lifting it over the 10 foot wall between our properties;
4. Disappeared off with my pushchair one morning when we had an irreparable puncture. She came back with completely new tyres and inner tubes. She ‘knew a man who did that sort of thing’.
5. Commented that my scatter cushions were a bit old and tired. They were. I said that whilst I have two young boys who use them for forts/trampolines/offensive weapons (delete as appropriate according to day and time) I was not going to change them. I came back from holiday to find they’d been recovered using a Pakistani fabric used for wrapping bread which I’d mentioned to K a few months back would make lovely cushions. She’d done them herself. Observe:
6. And then my mobile stopped working. It’s one from hubby’s work. We thought it was the battery so we got a new one but that didn’t work either. It looked completely bust. After a few days of no one quite knowing what to do and contemplating getting a new one K lost patience. She took it away last Friday and returned it on Monday as good as new.
Everyone needs a K. There’s someone in the house who changes the bedding without being asked, prepares hot meals for when I walk through the door, keeps the children entertained (last week she made a bow and arrow set out of sticks and string. It still works). It’s like having a 1950s’ wife of my own. I don’t know how I’ve coped so long without her. The only downside is we can never leave…at least not until she’s organised it.