"Minuet" by Boccherini. A composition Donna would listen to when we were
driving to lunch in the Winelands of Stellenbosch, Franschhoek and Constantia.
To be in "The Mood of Genteel Country Living", she said - as WOLF cruises
sedately through vinyards and olive groves.
HERE: Donna in her turqouise "in-you-face-jacket" as she had referred
to it when she had bought it.
She SMS'd me: "Anyway. I bought my self a bright turqouise jacket. In
Your Face! When am I going to wear it to lunch?".
AND... Here we are.
Donna Darkwolf - "Oh to Dine and Drink and Sing, on a Wine Farm"
"Accompanied by my loving, ever-faithful, and entertaining Minion. What
more could I wish for"
"Get the Wolf-Mobile, pretty Minion of Mine! Let's go to lunch! I want
to see My Ducks!"
she will announce merrily, walking out of the shower as she commenced
her preparation to head to a wine farm restaurant.
EXPLANATION:
1. I am variously Donna's "Beautiful Soldier", "Oh Husband Mine", "Love
of My Life" and "Mon Assitante Stupide".
2. I do most of the cooking and driving so I am: "Mon Chauffeur" (FR.
My Driver) - or "Mio Cuoco" (IT. My Cook)
3. Donna loves The Minions in the movie: "Despicable Me" - and because
I am always busy doing stuff... D.I.Y, errands, "things-for-her", I am
now designated as...
Her Personal Private Minion. My name is "MIFWIC". Mother-F*cker Wot's
In Charge! Just so we are Clear! Yes!?
Always excited, and definitely hungry. Such a Joy!
I have seen my Donna Darkwolf eat directly out of a tin can, on some days,
when she was sad.
Or she would announce, arising from her bed, and waltzing half-naked,
into the kitchen, cheerfully:
"How about a pasta, my lovely chef?"
OR demandingly imperious, as in addressing the hired-help, snappishly:
"Chicken curry tonight? Any chance? Soldier? Of a half-decent meal?"
And I would admonish her in my best Indian accent:
" You ar rr daking jances! Sumboddee-e! iz Gowing to get Herrt!
In Fact... Jollee Well HERT!", nodding my head from side to side.
Which can only be done with much finger-wagging, at eye-level.
To which her response was, as always, peevedly and sobbishly indignant:
"If I starve to death - How on earth will you explain it to The Coroner?"
Which led me to the inevitable, pains-taking explanation, in my veddy
best English., as spoke by the Queen:
"Your Highness is ev cawse... haware thet The Coroner is my own brother!
and in a-a-all likelihood,
he will aver to to his own blood-line, rather than that of Your High Ness."
"I could bi poizzoning YOU-uU!!!!~" in a wheedling, thinly-veiled
threat (Hindustani accent, - with slightly stooped posture, and some slow
hand-wringing).
Her dramatic response? "I Do Not CARE!"( with a dimissive flourish
of her hand, looking down her nose at me )
In a higher pitched, irritated Sibyl Fawlty tone:
"Oh Poison Away! Just GET! ON! WITH! making me a blasted chicken curry!"
"Also...", suddenly sweetly demure:
"I vhant to Da-a-a-nce. Shall we play a Fandango? Paso Doble?... a Valtz,
perhaps... IF? Ju Don Mind?".
SO! While I cook, my shiny Dark Wolf and I dance a slow, sensual Paso
Doble. In the Kitchen. Thankfully, we have a BIG kitchen.
Mia Donna Strega! Such a delight.
"You DO realise, M'lady, that you are dancing with the "hired staff"?
I wearily inform her.
Brightly, laughing:
"YES! A BARGAIN! A Soldier, A Minion, and a Chef! Three for the Price
of ONE!
Do you not love and admire your Witchy Wife's thriftiness?"
"I am AS mercenary as you My Franco" - she wrote to me many times.
(Never knowing I would be The Darkwolf Donna's mercenary messenger in
Egypt, one day)
