Respect to The Bear

Oops! I'm in trouble. I nipped to the bathroom while I filled the kitchen sink with hot water, and forgot about it. I didn't know my lass knew words like that. I pointed out she now had lots of hot water to mop the floors while cheerfully grabbing a bowl to fill 'her' mop bucket that she was using to mop up the flood.

I plonked some floor cleaner in it.

I got that look that most married men recognise. Y'know the one. The Look Of Doom. I didn't retreat, honestly. I made a strategic withdrawal.  There is a difference.

~~~~

The people asking me to refer them to Food Banks has dropped off considerably. That too, I credit to My Bear. While I'm sat here in my corner flicking through the info, behind me The Bear has been asking blunt and searching questions about their finances.

 "Oh, you got your TV from Brighthouse?  I hear they're reight dear? What, they said they're coming to fetch it back? Heck, that's tough. And Wonga too? Didn't know they lent t'unemployed. So they took 3 weeks from y'bank account? And now it's 70 quid in charges. That's a bugger? Thats a weeks JSA, innit? Poor darlin' " "Drayyy... what's temperature outside tonight? Couple'o'quid to pay off emergency on't key for 'em ok?" 

"They said they found you on the electoral role? Why didn't you come off it then? Right then. So you couldn't get a credit card without it? Ohhh, right. Ow long 'ave you been on that then. Two months? Why? Minimum amount then. Wadddya mean you hoped to f***k them off? Don't be daft you W**ker"

I stopped cringing and thinking 'Ooh, Ouch, Eek!' ages ago.

"Nosey bugger, your lass, isn't she?" one bloke grumbled. No. Not daft, The Bear.

Besides. My marbles might be slightly loose, but I handle the family finances, and she has to check with me. Which is why I let her get on and do her thing. She's not as daft as she's cabbage looking.

Respect to the Bear.