Sometimes, it seems that there is not much to say about anything, but she goes ahead and says something anyway, usually when you have just got everything lined up nicely and you are ready to start your run up towards the day’s first slice of toast.
It is always a time of ominous foreboding when mere reality intrudes itself between a man and his first slice of toast of the day. Deep down, the woman knows this, and she knows it well. It is down there almost at the level of instinct, a woman knows that she should always keep the man slightly off-balance, never quite sure if he is on solid ground, or about to tread off the path into one of those womanly traps that lie so cunningly hidden from the unwary and oblivious male.
Of course, what he should do is put the toast down and make one of those spontaneous romantic gestures – take her hand across the marmalade and kiss it – the hand, not the marmalade – that she always complains that he does not do, and then complains about it ‘being the wrong time’ when he does.
Although, when ‘The Right Time’ actually is, is one of the most closely guarded secrets in the womanly sect, and for any woman to actually give out any hint as to when ‘The Right Time’ may actually be, runs the risk of being thrown out of the sect and being shunned by the rest of the women for the remainder of her life.