When is it you go back to sea…?

So…today I decided to Hoover upstairs and the actual stairs.  I shake n vac-ed with gusto, went to get to the hoover, plugged in, turned on and waitied for the moment of satisfaction I get when you can see the lines on the carpet when you hoover up the SnV… but nothing.  My treasured Dyson (I admit, I have Monica tendencies and I clean it regularly) had no suck.  And the last person to use it??? HIM. He who used it to clean my car.  I knew I should have paid to get it done professionally. Rather than pick up any larger bits of rubbish he has it seems decided to simply hoover them all up with my precious Dyson, choke and clog it, then PUT IT AWAY.  He has put it away broken.  So now, I am sweeping the SnV off my stairs with a dustpan and brush.  FML.  I know when he’s away I will complain that I’m all alone and I have to clean out my own car, but at least I’ll know where everything is and that it actually works. In honour of my experience today, and all those that find life with a matelot for more than 2 weeks at a time unbearable, this blog of annoyances is for you!


Your OH probably thinks you’re one of the lucky women blessed with neck down alopecia because you’re so smooth, but you know the reality is a lot of time consuming shaving, plucking, waxing and exfoliating.  Its exciting at first, rubbing your smooth legs against his hairy ones, but after a couple of weeks, you just wanna put on your pjs and be left alone…and following on from that…


Oh how you missed the touch of a man when he was away.  You lusted after every hot/not your usual type but kind of attractive/has a pulse guy (delete as applicable depending on length of deployment). How you relished it when he got home.  How you enjoyed and savoured every kiss, touch and hug.  The sweet anticipation of knowing where that cuddle in bed, the look across the room, the little cheeky squeeze of your bum/boob as he walks past you is leading… but then afterwards, the run-to-the-toilet-with-your-legs-clamped-together moment brings you back down to earth with a bump.  And finally, sleeping with his arm across your body in post-coital spooning bliss…


Why does he take up soooooooo much room!  And the noise!  And the smells!  And speaking of smells,


You can’t just let rip and snigger any more. You have a be a delicate, feminine, desirable creature of womanly sexiness.  You have to clench until he leaves the room, or try to time your botty burps so you can blame them on the kids/dog/both.


Stealth poo-ing is an art form, here are the best techniques.

Method 1. Wait til you go for a bath/shower, have your little dumplette whilst running said bath/shower… but be sure to leave the window open and use a strongly scented shower gel as the steam tends to make the ass apple aroma linger. (I’m sure there’s some complicated scientific explanation as to why this is the case, but I have yet to discover it as I’m too afraid to type it into google in case he sees it on my search history and thinks I’m a some kind of bum brownie obsessed freak.)

Method 2. The splashback sheet.  Fill the toilet with strips of loo roll, but don’t ball it up.  You wanna make a bog roll cushion to catch your rusty nuggets and stop them making that ‘plopping’ sound as the drop into the toilet bowl.  However be careful not use too much loo roll, otherwise you will flood the toilet when you flush.  Tricky.

Method 3.  Cough as you plop.  Time it so that you cough as your body boulders hit the water. Job’s a good-un.  Although he may become concerned that you have developed asthma.


He doesn’t give you the same level of toilet sharing consideration.  Oh hell no.  He farts, burps and shits as if you aren’t even there, sometimes he leaves you little floating butt babies in the toilet bowl just to remind you he’s home.  Occasionally he’ll remember that you don’t want to suffocated by his nose hair disintegrating pebble stink and will use a squirt of the air freshener that you have casually left on the windowsill.  Only a squirt mind, not enough to ACTUALLY get rid of the stench, just enough to make your loo smell of eau de shitrus.  Nice.


I do not want to watch re-runs of Top Gear on Dave.  I do not want to watch Greatest Movie Mistakes 5.  I do not want to watch you play Call of Duty in your scaggy pants while you pick your nose.  I want to watch Eastenders and Don’t tell the Bride.


I know this goes against what I said ‘How to live with a Matelot’ …  but I feel its justified.  I hate it when you leave your bag at the bottom of the stairs  (Err hello?  Health and Safety hazard much!).  I hate it when you don’t put your massive clompy boots away, I hate it when you polish your shoes and leave black polish marks on my sofa.  I really hate it when you leave your dirty stinking kit in front of the EMPTY washing machine.  (FYI you might aswell drag me in the kitchen by my hair, point to it and say ‘you woman, you wash clothes’.) and I really effing hate the bobbles your fucking honking, sexual-desire -repulsing,  pussers socks leave in the carpet.  See OliveOyl, Navy wife https://oliveoylnavywife.wordpress.com/…/…/11/pussers-socks/

When is it you go back to sea…?

2 thoughts on “When is it you go back to sea…?

  1. I love your writing. It is so insightful, very well written and absolutely true – not to mention hilarious.
    Please keep writing.
    WO1 – 32 years in RN – still serving

  2. As a Naval Wife of 26 years and then a FTRS (Naval Reserve ) wifey for 5 years plus I enjoy your scribbles…. nothing changes though sad to say. Alco-pops made it more interesting when they arrived in the 90’s 🙂
    Keep them coming – it is nice to see I am not alone in my insanity where the RN are concerned. (Life without limits my ar$e)…….

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