Victoria Hawkins: Enter the Dragon

We are now a marriage of four. It seems that yet another new woman has entered Mr H's, and consequently my, life. I call her The Dragon, which is mostly because that's what I believe she's called and already I fear her presence in our lives could be even worse than having to rub along with the other Other Woman.

We are now a marriage of four. It seems that yet another new woman has entered Mr H's, and consequently my, life. I call her The Dragon, which is mostly because that's what I believe she's called and already I fear her presence in our lives could be even worse than having to rub along with the other Other Woman. It looks like the new one is moving into the house and living with us, unlike that other dratted female who appears to reside somewhere within the bowels of his dashboard - Mrs Sat Nav - she's the one who insists on barking out orders and telling him where to go. I hate her but he obviously loves her because I still catch them deep in cahoots together (“Take the third exit at the next roundabout…”) even on his journey to work - as if he didn't know the way.

With the old Dragon the metaphorical vocal boot is on the other hoof because he actually tells her what to do. The start of what I believe to be a long and very, very close relationship began last night so it's early days but already he seems very possessive.

Firstly having booted her up and installed her on his laptop (!) he put on his headset and started reading to her - Alice in Wonderland I believe it was. With him looking like a butch 1960's telephone exchange operator I left them to it. Even from the next room - where I'd retired unwanted and unloved with a bottle of dry white - you could hear it. Constant one-way chatter, then “Go to sleep!” he'd say masterfully, followed by “Wake up. Wake up.” Then, louder again, “GO TO SLEEP”, and onto “Delete, damn it, I said delete”, “Scratch it!”, “Colon” and “Go to bottom.” I went to bed. He followed somewhat later looking a little forlorn and fairly haggard so I thought best not to enquire how the first date had gone.

Anyway today's another day and I had barely dressed before he rang en route (a muffled “Take the third exit” in the background) to say he'd left his new voice recognition machine at home, could I bring it in to work, so it's now 10am and he's already been and collected her but now he's back in the shop. Why? He can't get her to work in the office. It appears his computer there hasn't got enough, as they say, RAM, to it, so he informs me he's gone back to the man who deals with the RAM. I give up.


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