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The real reason Henry the VIII beheaded his wives!

The reason Henry the VIII beheaded his wives was because his bed was too small and this resulted in insufficient sleeping space and major arse collisions during the night with his wives. Let me explain my day yesterday and how it led me to this conclusion…

It was my last day at work due to redundancy. Usually on your last day there’s all that, ‘don’t be a stranger malarkey’ and cakes. But being home-based I finished up, said goodbye to myself, wished myself luck and stroked my co-workers – not in a saucy way, it’s just one of my cats and dog.

Then back to the Dr, and on for a chest X-ray as my asthma has been bad all week and they wanted to check my pneumonia wasn’t back.

It was during the check over with my GP, which involved a quick look in my ears, I learnt that apparently and unusually, I have upward facing ear canals instead of downward facing. Not sure what to do with that information but decided I’d point my Q-tips in a different direction from now on.

Next, I was going to take a leisurely bath and get ready to go out for my leaving do, with my family (bit weird), to a murder mystery dinner where we were also staying over night in a 16th century hotel.

Just before getting ready, my friend texted and we decided to take our dogs for a quick walk. Unfortunately, the little buggers decided to chase each other into water and mud and refused any type of treat to get the hell out! At that point you start walking off saying, ‘bye, see you’, but they don’t give a shit or know. They’re a dog.

Eventually, they get out, and Winston normally cream, looks like Michael Jackson, in that you’re not sure if he’s black or white and his fur is tight curls like Wacko Jacko’s in Thriller. Annoyed, we walked home to lots of hilarious comments from funny strangers, ‘someone’s having a bath’…

So my luxury time to get ready went from 1:30 mins to 18 mins including washing my hair and packing an overnight bag. The rest of my time was spent giving Winston a hose down, a shower and a bath using the last of my blinking bubbles!

Winston is a Cavapoo and has been growing his coat out for a competition. It was like soaping up a polar bear and he has so much fur he floats in the bath like a marshmallow. His fur has got so big he’s actually now got bum cheeks.

Then came the blow drying. To his credit, he did just lay on his back with his paws up and let me do it, enjoying being pampered a bit too much which annoyed me even more.

Winston off to his sitters, then off to the hotel for murder and grub. Oh no, a U turn first, someone, after moaning he had been waiting for me forever, forgot his over night bag!

When we arrived at the hotel Tony (husband) and I were the first to arrive, and I instantly felt myself feel awkward when we met actors walking about in period costume with very theatrical hellos. They’re annoying and completely over the top, I thought. Only to be told by my sister when she arrived, ‘they remind me of you! I could see you doing this’!

Time to take our stuff to our room before the murder starts, leaving me just enough time to fall a third of the way down the narrow staircase and land with a bump on the mat at the bottom, which took off like I was going down a helter skelter.

Seriously, look how narrow the staircase is, how did my arse not provide some anchorage against those walls bearing in mind I had to basically get up it by going sideways! What’s the point of having fat cheeks if you can’t use them as brakes during a fall! Though they did bounce up like airbags upon impact on the mat.

No idea how Henry the VIII and his immense 52inch girth made it up those or any of the other similar sized stairs. Apparently, he and Queen Catherine were frequent visitors to this manor house and according to Google he had an ‘above stairs’ room of some standing.

The murder happened and then we were taken into the grand hall for dinner, to discuss/talk over each other/argue about who had done it and to admire the 16th century architecture when we stopped listening to each other.

We are deep in the heart of Brentwood, the birth place of the TV reality show about people living in Essex, known as, ‘The Only Way is Essex’ in which people are commonly heard to say, ‘Shut up’, every other word. We wondered whether this was Catherine’s response when Henry told her he was going to take off her head…’oh shut up’.

It was a good laugh. We decided who did it, wrote it down and why we concluded that and it was marked by the actors and scored. When it was announced that we came second there was a bit too much air punching.

Back to our room, the bed was comfortable but the smallest I have ever slept in. Tony likened it to sleeping on an ironing board while I resigned myself to the fact he was basically going to be sharing my pillow all night.

I didn’t get much sleep. There was a lot of arse buffing in the night every time one of us shifted. Our butts were like 2 poaching eggs in a rapidly boiling saucepan. Try as you might you can’t keep them apart.

It was at this point I knew Henry the VIII cut off his wives heads just for more bed space. Believe me I was seriously considering doing it to Tony, especially when the snoring kicked in, but there was only a teaspoon available for chopping purposes.

At one point there was an almighty head on arse collision instigated by Tony. The impact nearly booted me right out the bed. It had the force of a tennis ball being whacked in an upward serve by a racket. I wouldn’t mind but his arse is at least 1.5 cheeks smaller. Definitely no arse anchorage for him if he fell down those stairs!

I must have fallen asleep at some point, as I awoke to Tony repeatedly bumping into a wall in the corner of the room like a small child’s toy. I thought I was going to have to get out of bed, pick him up and turn him around and point him in a different direction.

He was up for the loo and scrabbling for the light for far too long, I did think about using that teaspoon! Instead I shouted to go in the bloody dark! Then I’m up for the loo with the same interest in the same wall, bumping about in the dark and also giving up finding the light.

A few more times up for the loo, and eventually some sleep before I was woken up by a loud bang. Not two arses knocking. It was different. I sat bolt upright and expected to see Henry VIII leaning over me gorging on a vast haunch of meat with greasy lips and fat fingers.

Tony in full snore, I rammed my ear plugs in my upward turned ear canals but still couldn’t sleep. I shouldn’t really take it out on my ears, they are good ears. They are only doing what comes natural.

I lay there for ages until Tony, woke with a start and said ‘urgh, what’s it doing, it’s staring at me like a weirdo’. ‘Er, you’re on my pillow’. Ignored, he tells me, ‘I didn’t get any sleep last night, you were snoring’! Whether or not I said it, I thought it, ‘are you f’ing kidding me’!

Then, another repeated request for me to move over, before me actually turning the light on to demonstrate how little room I had, and to re-draw the sleep boundaries onto the mattress with my finger.

I decided to get up, no idea what the time was as my phone was dead, but it was a long night and I felt like it should end. So, I decided to go in the ample bath and use the Jacuzzi jets.

While I was running the bath, I realised the bottle of complementary soap I had used in the dark to wash my hands was actually mouthwash. I thought it was just cheap and thin and I had no way of telling it was minty fresh as I can’t smell!

Revitalised, I went back in the room just as Tony was waking and looking at his phone to check the time. ‘What time is it I asked?’ ‘6:00am’. ‘Jeez, are you kidding me. I must have been in the bath since 5 with those noisy jets on!’ Now, the whole hotel would want to use that teaspoon!

 

 

 

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