I’d do anythin’ for ’er. I keep the yard good—clean up after m’self. So the business about not bein’ romantic—well, it’s rough.
So I send ’er out for a days shoppin’. When she’s gone I start cleanin’. The house looks like those magazine photos, it’s so tidy.
After lunch I set the good table with the good plates, then I get the oven on. I’ve got some stuff from the deli—‘cordon bleu’, heat an’ eat.
About five she’s back. Had a good day at the shops, an’ when she sees the house an me all fresh shaved she says, ‘Gordon, what a surprise.’
I pour her champagne an’ we eat an’ she’s sayin’ how nice ev’rythin’ is.
After coffee she says we oughtta maybe not watch any telly. So I bring out the box.
She unties it, looks in, then laughs. ‘Red!’
‘Pretty fancy,’
She just walks to the wardrobe an’ I reckon I’ve blown it. But she gets a different box—the one from our weddin’—an’ she says, ‘maybe these instead, eh?’
She puts ‘em on an, blimey she looks good.
An’ she’s says, ‘Come here Gordon. You’re all the romance I’ll ever need.’
small stories about love 