Useless husband

Bill Oldfield

I know I’m a useless husband but, in mitigation, it’s not my fault. It’s my genes. At least I hope it is and that there’s not something terribly wrong with me.

For instance, I don’t know the correct answer to “How do I look?” when actually the honest response might be “Not terribly good” but the most apt one would be . . . . . Well, what should it be?

And I don’t understand the importance of birthdays and anniversaries. After all, every day’s a celebration, isn’t it? Surely I wake up each day full of joy at being alive as well as married for another 24 hours to my darling wife? So why would one day of the year have to be more important, cost me money and make me have to go shopping for I don’t know what?

Before you think I’m an old scrooge you must…

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