Cooking Every Day of the Week

Jack came round today. His wife had been ill and been in bed for a week, so I hadn't seen him for a while. They have two small kids, so his mother-in-law, who is well into her seventies, had been staying with them to help out.

 

I could see that he was a little bit upset and asked if everything was OK. He hesitated. "Mrs. Jones from down the road called today", he said. "She was telling me off for letting my old mother-in-law work so hard."

 

Here's his story. Believe it or not:

 

Jack was in the kitchen everyday, taking care of the family dinner and the snacks for the kids during the day. His mother-in-law was also mostly hanging out in the kitchen.

 

On the Monday, his mother-in-law had asked him to get some leeks from the greengrocer's. Afterwards she sat down at the table in the kitchen with her coffee and cigarettes and cleaned the leeks.

 

On the Tuesday he was sent for some cabbage. She cleaned it and boiled it together with the leeks.

 

Wednesday was carrots and potatoes.

 

Thursday was onions.

 

Friday Brussels sprouts - and then the soup was ready.

 

Friday evening Mrs. Jones came round to see how Jack's wife was doing. The three ladies sat in the kitchen talking. Jack overheard Mrs. Jones tell his mother-in-law how nice is was that she could come and help her daughter. She asked what she had been doing.

 

"Well, I have been cooking everyday", she said. Mrs. Jones apparently thought that Jack could have done the cooking some of the time and let him know so in no uncertain terms over the phone the next day.

 

"And the soup", I inquired "was it good at least". I was happy to see a smile appearing on Jack's face. "The small ones both stuck their tongues out, their faces were contorted with disgust and they let out a loud "Aurrrrgh!"", he said.

 

"Sometimes you just can't help loving these little brats", he added, his smile never leaving his face.

Lesson learnt

When I finished school, I thought I had learnt enough. I was too boring and now I wanted to live the real life.

 

I was 17 and got my self a job in a factory producing cardboard packaging. The cardboard was cut and folded and sometimes stitched together at various machines. Print was added. Afterwards it was bundled and loaded on pallets for delivery to the clients. It was in the 70's, and automatising was not at the level that it is today. The physical effort was quite hard for a boy just released from school.

 

I was working with a guy, Bob, who had already been at the factory for several years. He was in his 50s. He had worked on the farms, until tractors and other machinery made him and many others redundant.

 

We had job sheets for the various orders we had to process. One morning when we had finished with all the job sheets we had he said, "You come with me. We have to see the manager to see what we have to do next."

 

We went up into the big office with the big windows overlooking the entire factory floor. The Manager, Mr. Smith, told us to sit down and offered both of us a cigarette. He then fetched a bundle of job sheets and started explaining. "First you run this lot for the fridge manufacturer", he said. "That should take a couple of hours. And then Carl can start loading them onto the truck. Then you can do the lot for the wholesaler in Copenhagen and finish off with 100 boxes for the auction hall in the harbour."

 

He looked at Bob to see if he had made himself understood. The instructions were quite simple I found, but Bob looked a bit hesitant, and the Manager offered us both another cigarette, and while we leaned back in our chairs and smoked our cigarettes, he went over the instructions once more.

 

We went to see Carl, who was the fork-lift driver who would take the cardboard from the store to the machines on the floor, and when the job was finished he would load it onto one of the trucks.

 

Bob shoved him the new job sheets. "First we have to do the lot for the auction hall", Bob told him, "then you bring us the 100 by 100 for Copenhagen and then we do the lot for the fridge factory".

 

I protested vaguely. "We had to the ones for the fridge manufacturer first", I ventured.

 

"No", Bob said, "that should be the first delivery. You can only unload there until five in the afternoon, so it has to been at the back of the truck. Then Bill - Bill was the truck driver - can make it to Copenhagen. It's only a small lot for the wholesaler, and he will be able to make it to his sister for dinner. The auction hall he can do when he comes back. They will be there all night."

 

"But", I insisted", the Manager told us to do the lot for the fridge manufacturer first."

 

"Don't be daft", Bob retorted, "Mr. Smith is a not a fool. He has been to high school and everything. He would never say anything as stupid as that."

 

The goods very delivered on time and to everybody's satisfaction. And Bill had dinner at his sister's in Copenhagen.

 

The next time we had to see the manager for new assignment it all worked out in the same way.

 

And by that I learned the importance of having a staff that's dedicated to making things work in the most rational and efficient way.

 

I also learned the importance of good managers - because with time I came to realise that Mr. Smith was very well aware of how things worked.

 

I also learned that by playing stupid, you can sometimes earn yourself an extra cigarette and a few more minutes of rest.

And, most importantly, I learned that there are things more boring than schools, so after a year a started High School.

 

After all Those Years

If you are married, and if you have been married for a number of years, you know how marriage slowly reveals your and your spouse's small secrets.

Her strong aversion to seemingly small and innocent things (dirty socks on floor), her irrational joy over a compliment on her dress, her insistence on health over taste when it comes to food.

And she, of course, finds out, that you care more about sports on TV than about keeping a neat a tidy looking garden. At first it doesn't matter much, but with the years these small things grow. You may even be told to go home to your Mum to have your dirty socks washed!

The trick to a harmonious marriage is giving in and letting your wife have her way, or at least some of it.

For example, when we got married, I knew, that my wife preferred the side of the bed closest to the window. So did I, but - being a gentleman - I told her, that I preferred the side next to the door. And for some 20 years she has been sleeping on the side she likes the best, and I have been sleeping on the side I "prefer".

A couple of weeks ago, I was away for a few days. I came home in the morning, and I went into the bedroom to change my clothes. My wife was up, but the bed hadn't been made yet. I noticed that she had been sleeping on the side next to the door.

I couldn't help making a remark about it later in the day. "Ah, yes", she said, "I prefer that side, but since you told me, that you preferred it, I pretended to prefer the other side. That's what a good wife is like."

I didn't tell her the truth. It's too stupid - and its to late.

Title Roles

Kids are fun. And it's fun to watch them grow up and come to grips with world and the things in it. Also when sometimes they have to learn about the hard facts of life.

 

When my daughters were little girls, and could not yet read themselves, I read the fairy tale The Princess and the Pea for them one evening as I was putting them to bed. It is by Hans Christian Andersen, and they seemed to enjoy it very much.

 

The next day, when they had had their breakfast, they wanted to play together. "Let's play The Princess and the Pea", the older one said. "Ah yes! let's do that", her little sister replied, her eyes shining in blissful anticipation.

 

"I'll be the Princess" the older one said. The little one looked thoughtful for a moment. Then worried. And then she started crying: "I don't want to be the Pea".

 

 

I love you Mrs. Chritensi

My uncle Jack has a tattoo. It is on his upper arm, and it says "Mary". It is the name of his present wife, and also of his first wife, and of his second wife. He has been married several times. Always same sex marriages - i.e. always with a female. And always with a Mary.

He had it made when he was quite young and was dating his first wife, his first Mary. After they split up he was looking for a new partner. His tattoo, however, imposed some restrictions. No Laureen or Nathalie liked seeing another woman's name on the upper arm of their lovely darling.

 

So he had to look for a Mary. And he found one. And later he found yet another one.

 

It's not as bad as it looks, he has confided. There are plenty of Marys around. "Imagine if the name of my first girlfriend had been Phylicia. It would have been very difficult to find a replacement".

 

I like his tattoo. It looks cool - and I'd like to be cool too. But there is this problem with the name - should me and my wife ever part.

 

But I have the solution. The tattoo will say "I love Mrs. Chritensi". Then I could go for a Kathleen, a Lucie, a Linda, a Patricia or whatever. My choices will be unlimited.