Monday, November 22, 2010

Mr & Mrs Wild

If there was an award for ‘The Wildest Couple’ – The Husband and I would win it hands down. We have redefined ‘wildness’. We make all you bohemian folks look like kindergarten kids. Oh yeah! We love to live life on the could say we have ‘risk addiction’!

This wildness quotient increases in winter. On the weekends when The Husband is at home, things can get unpredictable.

“Do you see that small pin-prick of bright spot in the grey sky?” The Husband asks, his nose glued to the cold window.

Me. After a lot of squinting. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

We both look at each other. The pin-prick of light is a humongous thing in the British sky. It means the sun could break out of the miles-thick layer of clouds.

“Let’s go!” The Husband exclaims.

We quickly wear the woollens, the overcoats, the shoes and rush to the lift.

We stand outside and take a deep breath. Why does my throat feel like a PVC pipe? Must’ve frozen. Fucking wind. Ripping, tearing, ice-cold sonofa****h wind. Blowing from up north I believe. Fucking Arctic Circle.

But then, we’re wild.

“Want to walk or shall we take the car?” The Husband asks. His nose and ears look like rosebuds.

“We’ll take the car,” I reply, “We have a lot of stuff to buy.” I justify. Apart from the newspaper, nothing else is on the list. Perhaps a can of milk.

Tesco is next-door. It’s a 5 minute walk. We take the car. We did the bit for global warming. Hang us.

It’s a toasty 20 deg cel inside the car. I feel pleasant at the end of the 2-min drive. I get out and look disdainfully at folks in gloves and knee-high boots and 3-mile long woollen scarfs. Some people I tell you! They just can’t stand a bit of chill. It’s another thing that I am walking like that Terminator thingie which got glued to the floor because of some molten metal goop. Damn! Old people in front of me talking about ASDA and Tesco and Waitrose and just ambling along at 10 cms/min pace. I gnash my teeth and bite my knuckles. One shove and the slowpokes can land at Pearly Gates. It’s a good thing I am a non-violent kind of person. The Husband has stopped walking. I turn to see what he’s up to. He’s checking out some newpapers. The wind lifts my hair and I think I can see my scalp along with the hair flying off. I snort like a bison. The Husband spots the ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ look and hurries to catch up with me. The old couple meanwhile have moved a foot away. Enough space for me to pass them by without causing grievous injuries.

We finish the shopping. I survive the walk back to the car. Phew! Am I wild or what! The wind now sounds like a million wolves on moon watch. The husband’s face looks like a wild berry. But he manages to crack a joke or two. How wild! Or maybe it’s cabin fever or something.

I think this wildness thing runs in the family. I’ve got a cousin living nearby. Yeah...she’s wild too. Totally unpredictable. She planned this trip to Scotland. It was amazing. Because we followed her wild itinerary. 40 pages. Bound book. Had the routes to every car park. There was plan A, plan B and so on. Just in case something went wrong. I am sure she ran out of time...else she would have marked the routes to Beijing too. Just in case we missed a turn. I suspect she’s a secret consultant to the White House guys...she probably plans out the President’s routes and all that. Love you girl. It takes two wild ones to bond. She was the only one who did not find my excel sheet crazy. Yeah... when I was searching for a house, I had prepared an excel sheet with weighted parameters that would help me decide objectively. She thinks it’s totally normal to take excel-sheet based haphazard decisions. But she’s gone and married a regular dude. Yeah...he’s the unadventurous type – goes cycling and jogging and all that... before sunrise at sub-zero conditions. Call him at 2:00 AM and say “Hey Dee! Let’s head to Siberia!” He’ll be knocking on your door before you hang up. How boring.

My sister is another wild child. One look at you and she can assess your carbon foot-print. If she does not like what she sees, I bet she can recycle you into separate parts. If she had her way, she’d probably ground air travel for the havoc they’ve created in the atmosphere. She’s itching to introduce ‘back to bullock-carts’.

Anyway, The Husband and I have plans to catch the Potter movie. Back in Bangalore, I would be snarling at pesky kids and barking at the ticket fellows to get the first ticket for the first show. Here, I can get the tickets, easy-peasy. The problem is getting to the cinema hall without the wind gouging holes in the face. I don’t need that kind of improvement on my face. But we are The Wild Couple remember? What’s a bit of wind for the biggest Potter fan?

3:30 PM – It’s twilight. WTF? Where is that goddamn pinprick of a fucking sun? It’s just different shades of grey in the sky. Through my window I can see the last of the autumn leaves flying off to space. The foul wind has picked up speed.

4:30 PM – Pitch black. The Reading nightscape looks frosty-crystal clear. There are several shows running. We can step out any time we like. Perhaps a siesta first? Boy all that walking around in the Tesco carpark was tiring. Not to mention I could not feel my head for hours after I came back. Yeah. Siesta is a good idea. Then we could have some hot ginger tea. And then we can check out the movie.

7:30 PM – Siesta done. Tea done. Some more Tea done. I am shrouded in a blood-red fleece throw. I have made a nest of the cushions. I don’t feel like moving out to watch a stupid movie. The Husband looks at me. He says all that is missing is a feathered-head gear on me, and a bonfire in front of me. Then I’d look like the other Indians of USA. I have a smartass reply on my lips, but I’m too nice and warm to bother.

But hey! We are still wild! So what if we are at home? We have a wild evening. There’s Engelbert Humperdinck on the stereo to crank up the atmosphere. The Husband’s brow is knitted over ‘Five Components of DuPont Triangle’. And I am minutely pouring over Cameron’s policies analysed in the Sunday Telegraph. And that’s not all! There’s akki rotti for dinner. And because I am the wilder of the two, I am signing off the day with a cup of Ovaltine. How wild is that huh?

I leave you with some wild party boys -
Image courtesy - World's most famous parents :) From wikipedia.

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