Whilst I was out yesterday, celebrity-lookalike stalking, my husband was engaged in mantasks. He did not tell me upon my return, having obvious difficulties interjecting during my Brad Pitt ramblings and online research. What, you think I knew about the wedding ring thing?
But in the bright sun of this afternoon (very wet morning), I noticed. More of the shed faced with eco-friendly recycled pallets.
With which he had previously made the new shed door.
Now, this made me smile and feel rather warm inside. I do not smile and feel warm inside when he makes dinner, or does the ironing. Here I am, a 21st century working mother, with a 21st century share-the-housework-husband, feeling pleased in a really visceral way when my husband does manstuff.
Earlier this summer he won a competition where the challenge was to identify actual parts taken out of a car's internal workings. There were bits of brake mechanism, engine, electrics, suspension etc. Not, obviously, that I knew this at the time. A lot of people entered this competition. Craig won. Again, I was really delighted because he succeeded at such a... manly task.
Now I grew up in a virtually all-male environment, and my first career (at the time I was in it) was male-dominated. I never once felt weaker, inferior or less able. I am a feminist. So why, why, this insane delight at my husband's ability with a hammer and saw?
And here's a close-up of the graffiti. It's a male thing, isn't it?
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