Mr Blue

It all started with the mixer. It had been a wedding present 20 years ago and over those years it turned out countless buns and birthday cakes. I was not its only user, my daughter has the baking bug too and likes to whip up traybakes when she should be studying. Her cousin is the same, they call it procrastabaking. Just before Christmas it went wallop (the mixer, not the daughter), so we had to replace it, but felt a terrible pang of guilt as we left the old one in the shop’s recycling bin.

Then the marriage-saving electric blanket packed in. You see, by an accident of birth, I was born a little too far north of the equator for my liking and to rectify this I favour being partially toasted before I drift off. However, he grew up in a box room with 2 external walls and sees cold as some kind of endurance test, he would survive an arctic expedition without a bother. For the first few years of our marriage, this was a bit of a problem. Then My Lovely Aunt came up with the perfect gift and honest to God, we are indebted to her for the longevity of our marriage, because it was just the ticket. A duel control electric blanket! I could turn mine up to max while his side lay unplugged for many years.

But marriage can change a person and a few years back, I noticed a little orange light on his side of the bed. I could have made a big deal about what a wuss he was becoming, but I said nothing, I’m good like that. No sooner had we settled our new mixer into the kitchen, when the electric blanket went kaput, but only on my side. Come on, says he, we’ll go down to our friend in the electrical shop and get a new one. But I couldn’t, I felt it was just a loose connection or fuse, and could be fixed, we checked, it couldn’t. Now I’m the one who’s gone hardy, or belligerent, or both and I’ve reacquainted myself with my old friend the hot water bottle. Sure, it’ll be summer before we know it and artificial heat will be far from my mind.

His phone is such an old model that when he gets texts with emojis they all appear as ? on his screen. It is held together with tape and the case is worn to bits. He has given his upgrades to the kids and stayed loyal to his old phone, but eventually a chance came to replace it and now he’s as up-to-date as the rest of us. When he picked out a new case for it, he went for blue.

We tease him a lot for his blue colour preference. Whenever we play board games, we give him the blue playing piece without asking. He gets the blue toothbrush, the blue mug from the picnic set. If life was Reservoir Dogs, he would be Mr Blue. Blue is the colour of loyalty, it is also the colour of a beautiful sky or inviting sea. It matches his eyes, he is a true blue, loyal to the end. Beyond what should be a natural end if the phone is anything to go by, the same applies to his car.

You get the picture, we’re laggards, not big into hopping on board the latest trends. We usually get into a tv series when it’s on about series 4 and unless we (literally) get with the programme, we will be alienated from all social engagement. So, the car that is older than our youngest child was long overdue an upgrade. It too was being held together, we tried not to hear its many wheezes and rattles. Our local mechanic knows it only too well, and even though I suspect he’s gone on at least one cruise with what we’ve spent on services, it was he who suggested it might be time to trade it in.  So, thanks to some scrappage scheme we’ve only gone and got a shiny new motor, and yes you guessed, it’s blue.

We collected it yesterday and after a run through the myriad new-fangled functions and buttons (cars have changed a lot in 15 years), he asked what would happen to our old car. I froze, knowing he was sad to be letting it go, it is still a grand car, with plenty of wear left. I could see the salesman was about to launch into talk of grabbers and crushers so I gave him a wide-eyed glare. He got the measure of us. Oh, it’ll be picked up tomorrow to go to its new home down the country, he said, it has years of happy motoring ahead of it. Some farmer will be delighted to get it.

I am not being pejorative about farmers, or if I am, I am entitled to be, as I am from farming stock. My Uncle Tom would have considered a 15-year-old car to be brand new. His own cars were kept in the garage under tarpaulin, with flattened animal feed bags placed on the seats to protect them and pieces of cardboard covering the floor. Then there were the plethora of religious medals and badges to protect those in the car. He kept a bottle of holy water specially for blessing the wheels and steering wheel before each trip. Before we left after a visit, he would perform this ritual in the yard, it was odd, but kind of lovely.

I’m a small bit worried about all this recent, and uncharacteristic, upgrading. New phone, new car, will he be looking to upgrade his wife? I think I’m safe enough though, he really is a true blue.