Post 240: Choosing jewellery can be a real surprise sometimes
The start of the day was full of me doing things that not only could I not do the day before, but was now doing without any safety net.
My Darling had left for work in the twilight and I’d finally got inside her head and hoped she wasn’t too tired to go shopping with me when she got home.
I had a smiley cat, a whirring washing machine, a happy me, and an unusually organised, busy feeling of accomplishment (while I had the energy, of course). I’d also smartened myself up a bit and even had time to eat a banana for breakfast.
She came home on the same mission I’d been on all morning and immediately shot upstairs to get into something warm and comfy for the dreaded shops. Shopping was never her thing, thank the Lord, so over the years you could never call her a drain on my wallet — and that’s partly why I wanted to treat her today.
Oh God… that all came out wrong.
I should delete that and start again. That’s not really what I mean.
No. I won’t.
It’s about time you lot thought a little less of me in the day-to-day love life my Darling and I lead.
So — the work on the wheelchair meant it was ready for its first proper outing, with her as head carer (imaginary just now, but maybe one day not). I opened the little boot and she attempted to get the huge wheelchair in there, on top of the newly laundered thick blanket that was there to protect the new-ish car from its new metallic passenger.
I should also say that the earlier wash wasn’t OCD — it was to remove a certain Mr Vicious’s hair and cat drool.
The plan just worked. Everything fitted.
But it did raise the first new question: do we need a bigger car?
So off we went.
It didn’t take long to reach the multi-storey car park my Darling hates. The open-sided concrete spiral ramp on the exit gives her the creeps. I don’t help matters — I drive down it as fast as I can and make her feel even worse.
I’ll be driving home from here I guess.
I parked up in the frantically busy place, and she opened the boot and said she was getting the chair out.
“Oh no,” I said. “I don’t need it for this expedition.”
So I grabbed her hand and bravely walked off, head held as high as it could be — hoping I wouldn’t have to eat my words later.
Down the busy lift from the third or fourth floor we went, into the main cavern of shopping heaven or shopping hell, depending on your passions. We both took a breath and pretended we were alone in this pre-Christmas madness.
But I had only one destination, and I’d already arranged the jewellery via email.
The choices I’d made were to be laid out for her approval. A timed appointment was impossible — my Darling has zero interest in doing things when asked, hinted, or asked again. So today we were cold callers.
We reached the clear glass doors of a shop neither of us had ever been in. My Darling suddenly realised this was where her Christmas shopping was happening. She was just about okay with that — until a security penguin in a suit turned toward us when the automatic door I was tugging didn’t open.
She nearly bolted.
The penguin pressed a button like James Bond, let me in to answer questions, then let us both through.
In hindsight we should probably have waited to be seated, but I charged off looking for someone who knew what I wanted. The lady I’d been emailing wasn’t there — Sundays — but another lady took up the challenge, checked my emails, and while I distracted Val with shiny things far away from the shiny things, she set up a grey velvet mat.
Bracelet. Earrings. Necklace.
Val’s sharp eyes spotted silver bracelets from the same brand as mine.
Get in there.
The lady gave a subtle nod and a whisper of “If you’d like to view them now.”
We sat.
Big reveal.
I’d made sure there were no price tags — it is a present after all.
The first reaction was grim.
No touching. No oo’s or ah’s. Washout territory.
Without panic I said, “This is exactly why I brought you. I’d rather buy you something you love than something only Mr U thinks you like”.
“You saw something over there.”
That was enough of a nudge I the right direction and we were off and running.
Suddenly the other lady was sprinting between cabinets as Val started enjoying herself. Then she found the tower — silver bracelets with hanging charms.
Fingers moved.
Oo’s and ah’s followed.
Kerching.
Kerching.
…Kerching?
Then Val said one word.
“Elephant.”
A tiny silver elephant charm appeared. She already had angel wings on one bracelet, stars and moon on another — now there was a dilemma.
She turned to me for help.
I was in silent tears.
Both ladies instantly became my carers. Tissue. Water. Space.
When she said “elephant” I was gone. I hadn’t expected it. It made everything suddenly much more special.
She was choosing to remember Kev.
I didn’t care what she chose — I just wanted her happy. And she was.
The lady asked to book me into the system after I had composed myself — probably fearing we’d never leave otherwise — and soon we were paid up. She asked if I wanted gift wrapping.
You’re asking a bloke?
Yes please.
While she wrapped, something else happened.
Another lady from across the shop called over.
“Are you Mr U? I think I recognise you.”
She came closer.
“I’m Maxine J.”
And the penny dropped.
Forty-five years fell away back to school.
We talked — long, sometimes harrowing — piecing together lives, relatives, history.
Well I’m blowed.
Nice to meet you again, after all that time.
The gift bag was handed over and we left the shop neither of us had ever entered before.
I suspect they’ll remember us.
⸻
My Darling is so happy.
I had a shopping experience like no other.
And there was a blast from the past too — life is strange like that.
After two days of doing, I am tired — but my battery feels extended. Maybe I can stretch my world a little more and find where the buffers are.
I went to bed early.
I had no oramorph all day — a one dose Sunday.
I won’t take another unless I need it.
The gabapentin must be taking over.
Brilliant.
The only problem with this early Christmas present is that now I have to give her a list of what I want.
But I already have it.
Earlier today, in that posh jeweller’s, it was us — smiling and enjoying life a little.
Priceless.
Good night.
