Are men and women really different?
Do you believe that Women are from Venus and Men from Manchester, (or somewhere like that?) Well, this post illustrates that point.
When my wife was working, she, like everyone else before the pandemic, worked from her place of employment.
However, for a short spell, she was required to work from home.
Now this posed a problem. For reasons I will not bore you with, I had transferred my centre of operations to the kitchen diner. My wife parked herself opposite me.
At first, there was no problem. But it transpires that women approach their work from a different angle than men.
Every two minutes or so, she would receive an e-mail from one of her work colleagues and insist on informing me of the contents. She could not understand why she was confronted with a stony silence and a blank stare from me. She mentioned this to my stepson, who also worked at home, although in a different room.
He explained to his mother that he and I never speak to each other between the hours of 9am to 5pm. He further explained that during this time, we considered ourselves at our place of work.
We were at the metaphorical coal face, hacking at the metaphorical coal. Our backs to the grindstone, our noses to the wheel, our shoulders to the…round thing with sticky out bits (come on, you must have got the picture by now).
In this place of work, there was no place for dainty chit chat or feminine flim flam.
We were fighting to keep ahead of the emerging world markets.
We were fighting in an economic war.
And war is a place for men. Men do war better than women.
If it wasn’t for men, there would be no war.
And then where would the Hollywood film industry be?
No films about mad blokes in helicopters with Wagner music blaring out.
No Rambo films.
Endless films about Bridget blooming Jones.
John Wayne would have had to keep his real name, Marion Morrison.
We would have had Universal peace.
Who would want to live in a world like that?
Oh, you all would.
I will go and empty the dishwasher then.
Some more of my stories for you.
Hot bread and butter and memories of a lost friend.
