Mrs P is off visiting her folks in the motherland. This is both a good and a bad thing from my point of view.

On the one hand…
Get to watch as much Time Team as any one man can stand
Can configure the bedclothes to suit [1]
Can listen to The Arguing Programme [2]

But on the other…
Nobody – literally – to snuggle up to at night
No impressions of the Polo Confidence ad
No nose wrinkles [3]
If I want to ’member things, I have to do it alone [4]
No insane nocturnal mutterings [5]
No rockin’ out to SingStar [6]

And worst of all, nobody to talk to; nobody to turn to to share a joke; nobody whose politics and world view chime so readily with my own that we can profitably spend half an hour discussing a topic while both violently agreeing with each other. And nobody with whom I can share our odd little system of catchphrases and distorted grammar that makes up the surprisingly rich private language that has sprung up from seven years of living together.

1. Technically, the configuration I favour is 'tuppling' – a sort of self-mummification technique that involves tucking the duvet tight around my body. This does not, contrary to current thinking, take up more than my fair share of the duvet.
2. This isn't any particular programme; it's just any radio show during which the interviewee filibusters frantically while the interviewer doggedly repeats "If I can just ask... If I can just ask... If I can just ask...". The Today Programme – AKA "The John Humphrys Show" in Jenny's mind – is an active proponent of this style of robust debate (as I like to think of it) and it drives Jenny nuts.
3. A few weeks ago, I was stressed and frustrated by technology. Jenny could do nothing to help. Nothing, that is, until she diffused the situation by doing a nose wrinkle for me; nothing is cuter.
4. It's easy to forget, when you're a couple, that stuff you do is weird. Jenny and I 'remember' things, such as "Hey, 'member when you fed a deer?" Nothing too odd there, you might think. But we do it all the time, and often – indeed, usually – immediately after the event we're 'membering, viz "Hey, 'member that good tea?" upon laying down the cutlery.
5. Already recorded on this blog: "It's a shame we have to lean against the hurty pain of the doormat" and "Remember when you kept pretending to be the smallest man in Australia all the time?". I've started collecting these weird noctural rantings and will do a big post of them when I have enough.
6. Mrs P has a phenomenal singing voice. With training and a marketing budget, she could be a credible indy music star. I don't say this because I love her; I love her, in part, because she's so fucking talented. I wish she'd realise this.