So I would hazard a guess that if any of you read this before, you are thinking, Hey Mr PD man, you must have had some classic arguments since we last heard from you.

You're right.

Arguments over how to make a ham sandwich for instance.

Picture a scene of domestic bliss, chez PD. It's sunday evening. Families across the land are preparing themselves for the return to work and school that Monday heralds.

Mr & Mrs PD are having a cuddle on the sofa. That's right, we were getting on well. And so, whatever godforsaken home improvement show we were watching finished, and we went to the kitchen, put the kettle on, and began to empty the dishwasher.

"Do you want to make the packed lunches for the kids?" says Mrs PD.

"Ok." I reply.

"Use the white bread" she says, "no, not the new loaf, use up the other one first."

"Ah ok, sorry didn't see it properly." I say.

"What do you reckon, cheese or ham?" I ask, in pleasant tone.

"Erm, ham."

"ok."

I take two slices of bread from the loaf, then realise I haven't got the butter.

"Put 2 slices of ham in."

"ok" I agree.

The sandwich making begins in earnest. I've made a few sandwiches in my time, so I like to think I know what I'm doing. It is a relatively simple affair, at least in terms of making a plain ham sandwich you would think.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she begins.

"What?" I ask.

"Why are you putting 2 slices of ham in?"

"Erm - because you told me to?"

"No I didn't."

"You said put two slices of ham in."

"I said put one slice of ham in."

It's at this point that I should point out she may well have been right. If you look above, you will see that I have written her words as:

"Put two slices of ham in."

And that's because she said something about the ham that I didn't hear properly because I had my head in the fridge under the worktop. Because it was at that point that I bent down to get the butter. I distinctly heard her say "put" then I didn't hear the next word but thought I heard "slices of ham in". So rather than ask her what she said, I just said ok, and thought, hmmm, what did she say, she must have said put two slices of ham in. No one says make a ham sandwich, and put one slice of ham in, because there has got to be at least one slice of ham in it to make it a fucking ham sandwich hasn't there? And unless you are in the habit of making multi-sliced fucking scooby doo and shaggy snacks, any instructions as to limiting the amount of ham that's going in the fucking sandwich are surely superfluous.

So I say:

"Why would you tell me to put one slice of ham in? It doesn't make sense sweetheart?

"I was just telling you how to do it."

"Do you really think I can't make a ham sandwich?" I say, beginning to laugh.

"What is your problem?" she replies. "I'm just saying I only said to put one slice of ham in."

"Well yeah I figured that any ham sandwich should surely have at least one slice of ham in it. That's why I thought if you were telling me how much to put in, well surely you must have said put two slices in? Sorry I must have misheard you." I explain.

Now, to me, I think I have explained my flagrant misuse of the ham. But she doesn't agree.

"You're such a contrary bastard." she says, before looking at the sandwich again and adding: "Why are you cutting it into 4?"

"Er it's just what I'm doing."

"She's not a baby."

I start to laugh again. "It's not baby-ish, I'm just making sure it goes in her lunch box."

"Honestly I should have made this fucking sandwich myself." she says.

"yep I think you should." I agree.

So the sandwich is made, and I ask her if she understands what I was saying, that it didn't make sense to me to be told put one slice of ham in a sandwich. Because I'm looking at her face, and it's set in such a way that I really don't think she appreciates the point I am trying to make.

"You are doing my head in now." she replies. "Here, let me finish doing the packed lunches."

"Ok" It seems safer after all.

So I take over dish-washer-emptying duties in time for the big saucepans, which never ever fucking dry properly, there's always a bastard bit of water waiting to drop from somewhere as soon as you pick it up.

I put the pans away in the cupboard where they go. First the lids, then the pans themselves. Then I close the cupboard door.

She reaches down, opens it again, and says:

"You can't even put the pans in the right place."

I begin to disagree "How's that wrong? - the lids are with the lids and the pans are together."

"I've got a system for doing them, I sorted that cupboard out so everything has a place. You think I'm just sitting on my arse all day, but I'm sorting things like that out, but you never say oh thanks well done."

"And after you completed this pan system, what did you do next, invent a fucking cure for cancer?" I say.

"Fuck off." She said, leaving the room.

Status: Period Incoming.