Remember the post I wrote about the first winery in WA? This one? My views about the site were closely linked with the emotions about my father, due to the property being sold at around the same time.
I wrote to the manager of the company that was moving on and asked if I might take one of the heritage rosebushes as a souvenir. I explained the circumstances and was gratified to receive a reply saying that of course I could. As it turned out, I made dearest husband meet me after work on a Friday to dig up the bush and Dad died on the Saturday.
To say I was almost at the end of my tether was not an exaggeration. We had the most stupid fight. Over a sandwich, over all things: I felt he wasn’t chewing it enthusiastically enough.
Because we were meeting there after work and I was worried he would be hungry I had gone to a great deal of trouble to make him a beautiful ham, cheese and salad baguette. He showed some reluctance to eat it and I translated his lack of enthusiasm over the sandwich as lack of enthusiasm towards the task at hand, general unappreciation of myself and failure to contribute equally towards our marriage – a bit of an extrapolation! I wept bitterly for about ten seconds over his perfidy and then sadness turned to rage and I snatched the half gnawed sandwich out of his paw and hissed, “Fine, don’t fucking eat it, then!”.
When he tried to take it back, protesting that he really did want it, I drew back my arm and let it fly but anger distorted my aim and instead of him getting it full in the face, he got mayonnaise in his beard as it skimmed past and landed in a bush.
Luckily, we had already mostly dug out the bush because I was too angry at that stage to let him do anything else . I don’t know if the rose will survive. I hope it will. Roll on spring and we shall see.