Category Archives: A Digression

These are mostly little pleasant rambles. Something to amuse, to think about, to enjoy. Often not about anything you can put a finger on, but there’s something there nonetheless.

NCT Sweat

My car (the one Mrs. Rumm usually drives) was due for the National Car Test the other week at 11 am.. I should have brought this up sooner on here because it is a good tale, but to be honest it has taken until now for me to calm down enough to be able to recount it:

The test was to be conducted in Blarney, which meant I would have to leave by 10:15 at the very latest if I was to be on time.

If you’re like me this proffers an immediate dilemma: What to do for the morning beforehand? I realise some amongst you (usually women with five kids, three jobs and a law degree) would have no problem working through half a dozen tasks or more, but I’m a procrastinating idiot so none of that was really an option.

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Gift Pricing -How much is yours?

Speaking of Two Lovers the other day reminded me of an unrelated event from a few years ago…

I asked Mrs. Rumm what she would like for Christmas. She told me a plain white gold wedding band. The one she already had was the standard gold type. She wanted a white one to go with different outfits. Or something. Who am I to question such things?

I recall buying the wedding rings with her first time around. Both of us wanted nothing other than “a plain ring”. Nothing fancy. As a result, the two rings we bought were each in the region of £40 (Irish punts). Our taste in jewellery hasn’t changed.

Now it was maybe six or seven years later… 2004ish. We had a new currency (the Euro). We had gone through an economic boom. Prices were higher. So adjusting for currencies (bring it to, say 55 euros), inflation (80ish?), a bit of greed (90ish), some more greediness (100ish), gold price fluctuations (….?) ..and a bit more on top, I estimated the absolute maximum cost such an item could possibly be would be 130 – 150 euros.

“OK,” I said. “No problem.”

Next day I entered a Jewellery Store (this sentence seems odd to me, but if I said “entered a Jewellers” it’d have a whole different connotation to my dirty mind).

“Can I help you?” enquired a pleasant-looking, well-presented male assistant in a calm voice that sounded like melted chocolate flowing over a lush carpet.

“I’m looking for a plain white gold ring for my wife,” I informed him, “Nothing fancy.”

“OK,” he smiled softly and lead me to the counter. He pulled a tray of rings from underneath. The first thing I noticed was the lack of prices.
The second thing was all these rings had something fancy about them -diamond studs, ridges, fancy engravings, etc..

Instead of jumping immediately to the vulgar issue of price, I hummed and hawed and finally asked if he had anything plainer.
“I’m really just looking for plain white gold -no decorations or anything.”

He considered this quietly and carefully before selecting one of the more plain bands from the same tray. It had only a few small indents here and there.

“Yeah, it’s not too fancy, I suppose,” I had to concede. “How much is it?”

“That one is 600 Euros,” he said as though his voice was massaging my temples.

Shocked, I couldn’t help myself.

“Six hundred!!?” I gasped.
“I told you it was for my wife,” I said, “not my girlfriend!”

Without batting an eyelid, the assistant creased his brow and nodded as though this made complete sense to him.
“I think we may have something more plain in our other store,” he confided. “I can ring them and have it here by tomorrow.”

“A simple, plain white gold ring?” I enquired, slowly turning towards the door.

“Yes yes,” he nodded.

“And how much roughly would that cost?”

He waved in the air and shook his head as though conjuring a nominal amount between old friends.

“Pah -no more than three-fifty,” he informed me, his voice having lost some of the chocolate softness.
“Come back tomorrow I’ll have it for you,” he smiled.

In truth, I almost felt bad not going back there the following day. It seemed a breach of trust somehow that instead I went down the road and bought the first one I spotted for less than two hundred -and that was difficult to find too let me tell you!

I still don’t see how it could be possible for something like that to jump to more than four-times its price in a few years. Madness I tells ya!

– – – – – – – –

Full disclosure: I can’t say for certain if the “I said wife, not girlfriend” line is truly original. It’s possible I heard it somewhere before. It sounds like something Rodney Dangerfield might have said. Either way it was fun using it. …A little disconcerting that the guy didn’t even flinch, but fun nonetheless. 🙂


Two Lovers Please

I like movies. I like non-formulaic movies with at least a little thought in them.

I’ve heard good things about the movie Two Lovers -at least enough to make me think I might like to see it. I’m sure it is a good movie, but I won’t be going to see it.

I generally go to the cinema alone. I prefer it that way, but anyway my wife has little interest in movies even if we did get time off together.
So the thought of walking up to the ticket office alone and saying “Two Lovers please” is just too much. I could buy online and collect at the door, but I despise the idea of extra charges for such things -THEY’RE SAVING MONEY BY HAVING NOBODY THERE why should we pay more??

Another film I felt awkward buying a ticket for was “Michael Clayton”. Thankfully I hadn’t realised how awkward it was to say it until I was standing there with cash in hand saying it. It just felt wrong somehow. Not entirely sure why with that one.

Are movies with people’s names harder to say at the ticket desk?

I recall having a similar dilemma paying for Amelie. I think that might have a longer name in some countries (?) but around here it’s just called Amelie. The problem for me there though was the young couple who paid before me asked for two tickets to “Ay-muh-lee-uh”.

Even though I knew it to be wrong I had a sudden burst of …FEAR, is the only word I can think of, that I was about to say it wrong.
It induced a kind of mental stutter that heard me purchasing “One for the same please”.

Have you ever felt awkward saying something or someone’s name?

[By the way, this post was first made (by me)  in a reply to a Jett Loe post in The Film Talk]

DEAD RAT

A little while ago my next door neighbour called to the door and asked if he could take some snips from flowers in our garden. I said of course, work away.

Long story, shortened: The previous owners of our house planted hundreds of flowers and plants all over the place. During the past 9 years of our tenure the garden has been forced to stand on its own two feet and fend for itself for the main part. If I’ve done nothing else, I like to think I’ve taught it some independence. Deirdre next door does some flower arranging every now & again. Her husband Con helps her gather what’s needed.

So Con went off and allowed me return to Series 1 of Damages (which incidentally is both awfully compelling and often just awful -a trend I’ve noticed in other TV shows such as The Tudors -it’s like they know they could be great, but are afraid to commit to being really great in case they lose the mass appeal. So every now & again they liberally apply Dumbdown (TM) and sprinkle it with an over-supply of Obviousness and pop it back in for a few minutes of crispy Crassness -a little something to please everyone, which results in nobody being happy with the end product.)

Glenn Close was being nasty and was about to make a nasty phonecall to another nasty lawyer when Con tapped on the window once again. It turned out he had made a discovery which can be summed up in two words: Dead Rat.

Yuck.

Continue reading DEAD RAT

Victim o’ the wood

There is something sinister about a lone man in a wood don’t you think? No companion, no dog, no jogging outfit -just a man alone, walking perhaps. In a wood.

I mean, a woman would obviously be nuts to go walking alone in a dark wooded area, but only for her lack of fear. Who knows what danger lurks around the nearest tree? I’m not justifying the fear, simply pointing out that it is logical (or at least human) even if irrational, to think it. And it’s likewise irrational not to.

But a man alone in a wood is most certainly a psycho killer. He is on his way back from dumping the body and now you are a witness and now he is going to kill you. Nobody else is within sight or earshot. The path is bringing you closer to him. There is no way you can escape without highlighting your fear. You know your fear is irrational. You know it is nuts to run away. You are forced to pass him on the narrow path, placing yourself within easy reach of his murderous hands. Will you be the fool or the victim?

A short while ago I was that man -the psycho killer in the wood I mean. I confess I didn’t murder anyone, but I might as well have had.

Continue reading Victim o’ the wood

The Entire Life of A Happiness

I think Happiness is mis-sold, overvalued and under-appreciated. I mean the emotion/ state-of-mind rather than the (excellent, though difficult-at-first) film by Todd Solodnz.

Happiness is difficult to do right -and almost impossible to maintain for very long. All’s it takes to rain on a day-long flotation of upbeat positivity is often a dismissive sigh, a shake of the head or an eyes-a-sky selfish shrug from a “friend” for it all to come crashing down.

I’ll give you an example of the birth and death of Happiness…

Continue reading The Entire Life of A Happiness

The Hole Tooth

Fluffy clouds and fuzzy bunnies joined me in song and merriment as I led the parade through thronged ticker-taped streets, when all at once I was violently awakened by little satnav shouting “Daddy wake up! Today is the day you’re getting your tooth out!”

I had forgotten about it. Young Lucy’s feminine senses in date-management have thankfully (or not as the case may be) kicked into full swing. Last Wednesday she told me “this time next week you’ll be having your tooth out.” I had forgotten then too.

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Shoulda Coulda Woulda

I was shopping again. I know, I know. I won’t keep going on about supermarkets, but let me relay this quickie…

I buy most of the shopping in this house -for 2 adults and 2 children. As I was finishing up, I passed by the drinks area and noticed some Polish beer I had bought previously. Knowing I had one bottle of same already at home I thought I might as well buy another. As Noah himself used to say, “Pair the beers”.

(Yes, I’m not sad enough to buy beer one bottle at a time thankyouverymuch. I do already have other types of beer in the house -not a vast selection or anything, but probably enough for a person or two to last a night if need be, if they didn’t mind mixing & matching & possibly swigging a can or two out of date towards the end of the evening. But this was a kind of ‘specialty beer’ and I only wanted one more).

Continue reading Shoulda Coulda Woulda

Daddy Daddy

My 3 year old son was calling me earlier. “Daddy! Daddy!” he shouted.
I walked into the room and asked him if my name was daddy. He said yes.
“So you’re saying Daddy is my name?”
“Yes” he nodded.
“But what’s my name?” I demanded.
“You’re my daddy, so you’re daddy,” he reasoned.
“But is daddy my name?”
“Yes” he said.
“So when I was a little boy like you my mother called me daddy?” I asked.
“No,” he admitted.
“So what did she call me?”
He thought about it for two seconds before saying… “Son!”