The difference between men and women

Amongst the things I've done this week is sofa shopping. 

You might recall that a similar event happened in October of last year. Unable to find a suitable one I gave up and threw a blanket over to cover the holes, but It is rather scruffy-looking and with our new television ... well, got to be done.

On our way to the shop we saw a carpet being carried into a house by three men. 

'That must be a heavy carpet,' Husband said.

'Perhaps there's a prince in it and when it is unrolled he will leap out and ask his princess to marry him!'

'Now that's the difference between you and me,' Husband said. 'I was thinking it was a dead body.'

Anyway, back to sofa shopping. We were about as successful this year as we were last year. The problem is George and grandchildren, not to mention Husband, all of whom make a mess of our sofas.

I don't want a leather sofa; Husband does. 'Or if not then one that has washable covers.'

There was ONE sofa in the shop with removable covers - and we didn't like that. 

I sighed. 'Come on then, let's try some leather ones.'

But Husband decided to be awkward, and refused to sit on any. 'You choose one and then I'll try it,' he said.

'But I don't care!' Which is a blatant lie as obviously I do, but I was losing the will. 

'I'm fed up now,' he said.

'Let's go home then.'

And we did.

I hardly know if I can bear to tell you what Husband said at one point when we were looking at fabric sofas - but I will. You can see what I have to put up with then.

'Look on the bright side,' he said, 'George won't last many more years.'

I know: you're shocked, aren't you? It's a good job I know he loves George and doesn't really mean it.

And here is George having rescued a stone from the river on our walk this morning. (A bit blurry. Not your eyes.)