But he is a clever man, my husband. We arrive at the festival and I was admiring the hippy/witchy clothes so he forced me to buy two lovely lace up T shirts and a Spanish style dress. That was in the first 5 minutes and I should have been suspicious. He then figured his duty was done and ran as fast as he could to the pub to meet the other husbands in the group we were spending the weekend with.
My friend Cheryl got her cards read and I sat in on the reading. There was a palm reader sitting behind me and I was finding it hard to concentrate because I just had to get my palm read. He reminded me of my friend Ralph (who boasts of having 22 heart attacks and 2 strokes, he is such a drama queen). If I tell Ralph he will say "ya fucken idiot, ya should have bought me a slab of beer, I used to be a palm reader".
I change seats, Moses reads my palm and I didn't like a thing he said.
- I am not a stress junkie
- I don't bluster my way through unfamiliar situations.
- I do not solve other peoples problems or create problems to thrive on the drama.
- I am not an over organiser (even if Cheryl butts in and tells him I count how many eggs we will need when we go camping)
- I do not have fat fingers, that are all the same length because I have emotionally retarded their growth. They may be a bit sausage like, but that is so I can wear big chunky gold rings.
- My rings are not a security blanket.
- He did not need to point out that I restrained myself from using bullet points when I summarised his suggestions in my diary.
- I do not think (all) my art is not good enough
To pay him back, I told him that my dad had a nickname Moey, short for Moses because when he opens his mouth the bull rushes. I paid him his money and told him I didn't like him one bit. I told him that again in the pub later that night when we bought him a beer and I forgot his name and called him Max.
