Tonight I've had a conversation with Phil about ways I've embarrassed him in the past. He mentioned one that I'd totally forgotten so I'm going to tell you about it. I expect that you'll feel for Phil after reading this. I do too.
So imagine a Sunday afternoon at a retail park. We've come for 3 things. A coat for Syd - easy peasy, sorted within 5 minutes of getting there. A replacement of 'The Stone Roses' by the Stone Roses (This is our 3rd copy, we've worn the first 2 out) and a pair of keeper trousers for our goalkeeper son, who was 13 at the time.
This one wasn't as easy as the first two. We visited 3 sports shops and they didn't do keepers trousers. The fourth shop we went into had the trousers we required. We picked out the trousers and Phil took them to the counter, with Joe and Syd in tow. I hung back and started playing with the footballs in one of those big metal baskets that hold them.
NOTE: For the purpose of this story I need you to understand exactly what these baskets look like. You've all seen them, they're circular and made of criss crossed metal, they come up to about waist height and contained within are footballs/basketballs/rugbyballs. The only place you'll ever find them is in a sports shop.
So, Phil's in the queue with Joe and Syd waiting to pay for the trousers, and I'm playing with the balls in the big basket. Now any normal person would leave it at that. If you've read anymore of my blog you'll realise we've already established that I'm far from normal.
I get bored of playing with the balls and look for Phil and the kids, they're still about six from the front of the queue so I start playing with the basket the balls are in.
At this point I should let you know that since I was young I've always wondered what I can fit my fingers/hands into.
I look up and they've only moved one place in the queue, so i start messing around with my middle finger and one of the gaps in the basket. I get it in to the bottom of my nail, which is impressive to me. I pull it back out and check their position in the queue. They're fourth now, I'm happy with that.
I have another play about with the balls but I get bored fairly quickly. The metal basket is much more interesting. I start again with my little finger....easy as pie, it pops in and out with no effort. I move to my next finger,and once again its fairly painless. They're still 3 away from the checkout so I decide to give my middle finger a 'good go'.
I test it out at first, I can get it in past my first finger joint, so I push a bit further, it's starting to hurt a bit now but I feel like I've committed myself to this so I give one enormous push and lo and behold I'm in knuckle deep.
I wont' lie to you, I'm over the moon with this, and to top off my joy I realise Phil and the boys are getting served. Ready to leave, I go to pull my finger out of the basket and realise its stuck fast.. I try to wriggle my finger free and realise that it's going nowhere. If this was a one off I could tell Phil that this was a complete accident and he'd understand. I daren't tell Phil because this is not a one off.
REASONS I CAN'T TELL PHIL
1) We'd only been going out for a couple of weeks and we went into town for some bits and pieces. We were in Boots and Phil bought some blades for his razor and some shave gel and went to pay while I browsed around.
I picked up a toothbrush holder and had a look at it. It was really nice, porcelain and pretty. I took the lid off it and wondered if I could get my hand in it. Why wonder when you can try, which is what I did.
So what I did is formed my hand into the smallest fist I could manage and forced it into the toothbrush holder. I was impressed that I'd got my hand in so I went to take my hand out and realised it was completely wedged in. Just then Phil reappeared. Please remember that we had only just met, I could hardly wave my hand at him and shout,
'Look what I did'
I really liked him and this could spell the end of our relationship. Who, two weeks in, wants to find their new girlfriend with her hand wedged into a toothbrush holder.
So I did the only sensible thing. I concealed my hand inside my jacket and left the store with him. Thankfully no alarms went off. However the situation wasn't resolved. Yes I was out of Boots, however a)I had effectively just stolen a toothbrush holder and b) It was still wedged on my hand.
We wandered round town with Phil trying to hold my hand, I couldn't let him as I'm sure he'd be alarmed to find my hand firmly wedged inside what was effectively a mug. We dropped into Yates for a quick drink and I managed to smash the toothbrush holder against the toilet wall, finally freeing my hand.
I dropped the broken bits into the sanitary bin and didn't tell Phil the truth for about 4 years
2) We'd taken Joe to the pictures. He was about 6 at the time and I was pregnant with Syd. The cinema had big comfy recliner seats and drinks holders with a hole in the bottom, perfect if you had a cone of popcorn or pick and mix.
As usual I got bored, so while the trailers were on I started messing about with the drinks holder. Before I realised what I'd done I'd forced my hand through the hole in the bottom of the drinks holder. Once agian I tried to stay calm until I realised my hand was completely stuck in the hole. I tried to free it but it was completely stuck fast. At that point I realised I had to tell Phil.
Anyway to cut a long story short, Phil spent 20 mins sat at my feet spitting on my hand, trying to free it while Joe hung round my neck convinced his mammy would have to stay in the cinema forever. NB Phil freed my hand 20 minutes in and didn't speak to me for 3 days.
So to return to the sports shop here I am with my middle finger wedged in the basket. No amount of pulling is helping to free my finger and to my horror Phil and the boys are walking towards me.
'All done' says Phil, jovially, and they all walk off.
I contemplate dragging the basket with me, so I try to pull it, bugger, its fixed to the floor.
I have no choice, I need to confess.
'Phillllllll', I hiss,
'Phil' I say,
They're moving away from me
'PHIL' I shout.....
I'm that panic stricken not only is my finger swelling up now, my head feels like it's inflated to three size its normal time.
Thank the lord they've heard me. They come back and Phil grabs my hand and tries to pull me along and I see the look on his face when he realises I'm attached to the basket.
He says something along the lines of 'oh you delightfully eccentric girl, yet another humourous incident where you have trapped something in a hilarious place, you really are a delight' (what he really said is 'Not again, you ridiculous tart, how many more times, you mad cow)
So here we are, my finger is trapped, Joe is laughing hysterically, Syd is crying hysterically, I'm hysterical because Phil is threatening to tell the staff to call the fire service, and Phil is clearly very p'd off. He must be annoyed because all of a sudden he just grabs my finger and drags it free.
No one speaks on the way home.
I still bear the scars
I daren't tell Phil I got my finger stuck in an vinegar bottle last week.