Note: Parts (well, all considering the drivel I write) of this post will make absolutely NO sense at all unless you happen to know the track Thunderstruck by AC/DC. If you don’t know it, or if you fancy a little refresher, HERE is it. Just the intro words are all you really need, but hey, it is such a great song, stick about and listen to the lot.
My wife and I have a “bedroom” rule. This rule is that she always sleeps in the wet patch. Now, I know what you are thinking. You are thinking “Gee, is sex all he thinks about?” Well, no…this isn’t about sex. The wet patch I mention is where she makes clay models in bed. Coz you know…doesn’t everybody? And that is where the wet patch on the bed comes from. Her splashing water on her clay model. So if you could maybe sort your dirty mind out for a minute I would really appreciate it.
We used to do it together. We were a regular Swayze/Moore double act in the clay department. But my artistic approach to life is a little on the “complete and utter rubbish” side. So while I was making a tea cup fit for a bin, she was off modeling the Sistine chapel to scale.
Yes there were people worldwide who were supremely jealous of our bedroom habits. I was always happy as I was always in the nice warm dry part of the bed.
Until yesterday, when it all changed.
Waking up to the muffled noises of a child waking up, I picked up 4 months old worth of small person and gave her a bottle of the finest house white which my wife had prepared (prepared? I don’t know…grew? created? Either way, it came from the fun parts that I am not allowed to touch anymore).
Gulping it down as if she had been starved for 12 hours (it had only been 10…such a drama queen), she finished the bottle in one mighty go, and settled down laying face down on my chest and went to sleep.
And then it happened. In the distance I could hear a sound. Someone singing. It went “Na na naaa naa na na”.
And then again. “Na na naaa naa na na”
And again. “Na na naaa naa na na”
Every time it got a little louder.
And then as it sounded like it got closer, it changed.
“Na na naaa naa na na – Chunder!”
And again. “Na na naaa naa na na – Chunder!”
And once more. Each time sounding closer and building to a conclusion.
And then, with one hefty move which normally is only seen in a hollywood movie, it came to a conclusion.
You’ve been….CHUNDERSTRUCK.
I was covered. The bed was covered. I looked like the Stay-Puff man (without the smile). My already English whiter-than-white-no-sun-touched-for-thirty-three-years body was now a different shade of white.
Looking up at me, my daughter smiled a smile of “Ah. That’s better!”. And then my wife rolled over, looked at me dripping with regurgitated breast milk, and said:
“Has she been sick?”
“No honey, I am trying out a new all over body, bed and floor cream.”
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