The unfortunate potato incident

I'm a bit of a maximiser. Or an optimiser. One thing I am good at is efficiently organising lots of activity in to a short space of time. When it comes to time management - quantity is the winner, quality is often the runner-up.

Recently, I've been doing an exemplary job of eating economically AND healthily, green living and exercising every day - I feel like I deserve a reward. On Mondays, I walk everywhere, food shop (with my bag for life), go to the pool, do pilates and go the gym. Isn't that an organisational achievement?

However, yesterday the plan went awry. On returning from pilates to prepare dinner for myself and boyf, I discovered that my enormous, super healthy potatoes which had been in the oven for over two and half hours (in tin foil - M's suggestion), were not even remotely cooked and nor were they crispy.

Trying to make the most of the situation, I microwaved them, and served them up - but they were REALLY undercooked - mine was inedible, and this annoyed me on many levels:

1)See aforementioned description of Mondays. I was very hungry.
2)We now had reduced time to digest food pre- gym (imminent indigestion).
3)Flat mate had just brought in a deliciously unhealthy curry (tasty)
4)Boyf must think I am incapable of cooking something as straightforward as a potato. This annoys me the most.

So, predicatably, I rant about tin foil, poor culinary advice, rubbish ovens, useless rented accommodation, ruined timescales etc etc. Boyf, predictably, gets angry because he thinks I'm taking it out on him (I'm not)- says I'm reacting utterly disproportionately and chastises me.

We eat in silence. Afterwards, he refuses to sit with me (I have been childish etc), and instead vegges on his macbook in the other room - unwilling to speak to me. Once again I'm 12 and I've just been sent to my room ...

We walk to the gym, work out and walk back and he drives home.

I still feel irked. Misunderstood. Why can't he see that this has become less about the potato and more about the fact he wouldn't listen to my rant and empathise, more about his subsequent reactions? Why can't he humour my 2 minute rant and then I'd be done?

Tears, texts and tempers. I'm thinking about how this looks to an outsider and I'm not coming off well... So the next day I decide to email him:


















Sheepish apology made. I can't quite believe we got this far. He emails back:













Evil potato.

A walk in the woods

It began when I expressed less than the required amount of faith in boyf's financial intentions for the future. This quickly snowballed into mistrust, and before I knew it, we were standing in an Area Of Outstanding Natural Beauty shouting unpleasantries whilst passers by admired the view. Woops.

Unable to concede to an apology and entering damage-limitation mode, I suggest we postpone our lovely autumnal walk, so as not to let the mood taint this beauty spot indefinitely. I set off in the direction of the car park. Boyf follows, at a distance of several paces, and we walk back to the car together but alone.

I attempt reconciliation, but mess it up but now there are more present to overhear our wranglings. I am excruciatingly embarrassed, and suggest we get into the car, hoping that half an inch of metal and glass all round will provide adequate sound insulation for the ensuing barney. Boyf however, does not want to get into the car. I reason. He is unrelenting. I warn him that I will have no option other than to drive off. Boyf does not get into the car. I retrieve his phone, keys and wallet, deposit them on a bench where he is sat and drive away.

This is quite unlike me. I wouldn't describe myself as stubborn (yes, but who does? Its unflattering), but with a sense of irony, I realise that's exactly his current perception. I pride myself on ability to think, discuss, reason and persuade. Debate. Cajole. Concede when in the wrong. But not this time. I drive off. For 15 minutes I circle the country lanes, thinking about what I have done... abandon my boyfriend in a wooded car park in the middle of nowhere, with no phone signal, no coat and no idea where he is.

Guilt overcomes me. I drive back and look for boyf. I head off in the direction we originally walked, wondering if he has done the walk without me.I pace out the entire walk and return to the car park. 1 hour and 15 minutes have now elapsed and no sign of boyf. I think about the non-existant phone signal, his complaints if he has to walk further than a mile (only previously tested on shopping trips - I am extrapolating from there). I am worried.

Then a text squeezes through to my mobile on less than 1 bar of signal. Its is from boyf who seems repentant. I reply, telling him I'm in the car park. Boyf says he is walking home. "Home" I estimate is a good 25 miles. I drive to find him, but can't, so I text back, asking for further identifiers (a 6-point grid reference or a SatNav in his pocket would both be of assistance at this point). He is silent.

30 minutes later, I receive another text, "Meet you in Costa". I am puzzled. The nearest Costa is in town. Almost 2 and half hours have elapsed since the abandonment. I drive past then park and when I reach Costa myself, he is standing in the queue.

He smiles. I smile. "Did you get the bus?" I ask. "No, I didn't", he defends, sounding slightly hurt. I do the maths and make it around 5 miles between the abandoment point and Costa. "I walked here. 5 miles. I followed the road signs and walked through the lanes, up the hill and eventually over the common. Then I recognised where I was and headed for town", he volunteers. I am very impressed.

Number 1: Boyf walked 5 miles.
Number 2: Boyf navigated from literally the middle of nowehere, to Costa.
Number 3: Boyf is buying me a coffee, with a smile on his face and shows no signs of damage after the aforementioned journey (other than extreme thirst, judging by the size of his drink). I am moved on several levels.

But what comes next moves me more. We spend an hour talking like adults over a coffee, in the manor we should have tackled all this in the first place. We're still in public, but this time nobody is overhearing us, and if they could, this time I'd be more than happy for them to overhear our sensible, mature, adult discussion.

We make up, talk about what lights each other's fuse, and work out a plan to reduce the likelihood of it happening in future. With a mature sense of satisfaction having eventually worked it out, we leave, hand in hand and walk back to the car.

He is vociferously proud of the 5-mile achievement. I calculate the distance involved in two laps of Bluewater shopping centre... 4.9 miles. Well there's a goal for the future :o)