Farting when they’re home

When your partner is away you can independently let loose with (ahem) flatuence – whenever you need to.


For civvy couples this kind of thing doesn’t happen to them.

They must have a well worked out routine of either: 

  1. Storing up farts until one of the couple falls asleep-then letting loose.
  2. All out, no hold barred, ass emissions as and when necessary.

I don’t really see any middle ground here for them civvies.

However- In the Oyl household, or maybe just in military households: 

Farting is definitely option 2 when Popeye is deployed, and then I try my very best for option 1 when he is home ( at least for the first two weeks of leave).

With the Oyl Household system, there is, an unfortunate overlap come homecoming time.

This time, when he has just come home. That magical time when he’s still unpacking, you are trying not to yell at the children and also trying not to guzzle the wine at the rate you normally do.

When you are trying to be sexy and cool and up-together.

When you are a trying to be a Kirsty Allsop- esque mum. And failing.

And then. There’s a rumbling.

The old pelvic floor gives a creak and-

You guff.

Its not even a quiet one. Not even one you can blame on the kids or the dog.

It’s bad.

In both the olfactory sense and the relationship sense. It’s bad.

And then you look at him and see his momentary disgust. Then humour. And ultimately his respect.

Because yes I fart. And yes he loves me.

Not in spite. 

But because.


Because he loves me and because (shock horror) humans pass gas. This is what our bodies do when we are healthy and fucking comfortable. 

It is embarrassing for that micro second before he laughs and before I remember he has encountered much worse on deployment. 

(P.s screw you Kirsty “let’s-all-casually-weave-a-basket/go-glass-blowing”- Allsop).

Muchos love ❤️ 

Alternative “open when” letters. For the realistic military wife.

I’ve been thinking I might have a go at writing some “open when” letters for Popeye. I’m sure you’ve all heard of them. Maybe some of you have even sent them, if you have I’m a teeny but in awe/jelly.

“Open when” letters are letters you write before they deploy that they can open when they’ve deployed at various pre stipulated points. 

For example they might say “open when…

  • You’re missing me
  • It’s your birthday
  • It’s our anniversary
  • You’ve had a bad day
  • You’ve reached the halfway point of the deployment.

Etc etc.


They are a really lovely idea and I’m sure they bring a lot of satisfaction and happiness to many of you. 

But (you knew there would be a but didn’t you!) they just ain’t my style. 

If me and Popeye were to do this, there would be some serious reality checks involved.

First of all I don’t know when the fuck I would find the time to write a dozen or so poignant declarations of love and reassurance. I barely have time to wash myself or go for a wee in private. Also I’d much rather spend those last few days actually hanging out with Popeye.

Secondly I’m 95%sure Popeye would either read them all in one sitting or forget about them until I mentioned them on the phone and/or the night before homecoming. Kind of ruins the magic a tad.

Thirdly I would be so tempted to put joke answers inside. I don’t think I can be trusted not to be a complete cow and do something like this-

“Open when… you feel like crying” *Popeye, with a sniff, opens letter*

“….ha ha ha ….tit…”

Or “open when…. you are homesick”

*opens letter, maybe a bit more guarded this time*

“….man up or hand in your notice… p.s it’s horrible here anyway…”.

Yeah maybe that’s not the best way to go.

I know!

Got it. I’m going to write him “Open when” letters, for a real (as in boring and normal) military relationship, my ideas so far include:

  • Open when…you’ve spent £200-500 on a night out, phone me from the dockside at 3am slurring, have fallen over and can’t figure out how to hold your phone and stand up at the same time
  • Open when… you forgot to top up your phone card and we get cut off mid conversation. Even though I reminded you yesterday.
  • Open when… you haven’t emailed me for days because you’re “so busy” at work but there are Facebook photos of you by the pool and/or selfie with a monkey in gib.
  • Open when… you realise I’ve spent hours buying, packing and posting out parcels to you and you moan I forgot to put in jelly beans.
  • Open when… you think it’s a sane idea to give me parenting suggestions from hundreds of miles away
  • Open when… you’re on a beach sipping cocktails and seriously say that you’d rather be here in rainy old Blighty than a tropical beach paradise luxury resort 
  • Open when… you casually mention on the phone you’ve been doing the T25 work out for the last two months and how it’s going really well knowing full well I’m halfway down a bottle of rosé and have eaten an entire Terry’s chocolate orange since you rang.

And the best thing about this is that I can save time and effort in the contents of the letters! A one-word-fits-all “open when” letter system! 

Simply

“….prick…”

I’ll let you know how I get on,

Muchos love,

Olive

P.s the choc orange was totally worth it.

X

Things I do when my husband isn’t here

I just got home without Popeye and strangely instead of crying or shouting or collapsing into the floor I stood in the middle of the room and let rip the biggest fart ever, right there in the living room. 

After the shock and knee jerk reaction blushing, all I thought was “fuck yeah Olive! Now I can do whatever the fuck I want to!”

It was liberating, it was exhilarating, it was a little bit scary.

And as I stood there post fart, hands on hips, chin up in what will now and forever be known as the F U Deployment Fart Pose, I got to thinking. 

What else can I now do that I can’t when Popeye is home?!?! 

This is what I have come up with so far whilst the girls are being raised on Peppa Pig and I curl up on the sofa trying not to cry:

  1. Spend ages looking for spots in the mirror.
  2. Watch such high brow TV as Buffy, I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here and GBBO.
  3. Let the dog sleep on the bed (shhhh).
  4. Put all of Popeyes clothes in a big pile in the bottom of the wardrobe so I can use his drawers for my stuff.
  5. Buy and eat food he doesn’t like all the time. YES!
  6. Fart as I go. 
  7. Actually talk to and meet up with friends instead of being a super flakey crap friend when he’s home.
  8. Go on social media all evening if I want to. Without feeling guilty im not spending magical romantic time with him. 
  9. Secretly throw out any of his honking Pussers socks that I come across. 
  10. Order whatever bloody dominoes I want (as a side note- there’s nothing wrong with Texas BBQ chicken).
  11. And potentially the most exciting thing- NO MORE STAR TREK OR GODDAMN PLAYSTATION!

What have I missed?

Muchos love,

Olive X 

Jill speak

Hey there lovelies, got an idea for you.

How’d you like the put some zing back in your relationship? Become that mysterious lady (or lad) of intrigue and whimsy once more? You would? Well then I have a little game for you! 

 Jill Speak!

Does your Popeye speak to work colleagues in another language? Does he respond to a name that is not his own? Do you sometimes have no idea what on earth he’s on about?

If the answer to any of these is “yes” then Jill Speak is just the game for you! And the great part is that the whole family can get involved too!

   
To play Jill Speak casually start using some of your Popeyes top-secret-navy-life-sailor-code-words into everyday conversation! Then sit back and enjoy the shock, confusion and then (hopefully) amusement on his face. 

I play it with my Popeye all the time and to be honest it annoys him. But who cares when playing it (and the look on his face!) is so much fun. 

P.s another great feature of Jill Speak is that you can modify it for whatever service your partner is in! For example, for my RM readers- don’t walk the dog- say you’re taking the dog on a dog yomp! 

Here are some examples/ideas: 

When asking him if he’s home next weekend- “have you got weekenders?” 

On bin day- “can you take out the gash bag please darling?”

At bedtime- “right I’m off to my pit, nighty night!”

When discussing the shopping list or at mealtimes- “what scran should I get in my love?”

Instead of reading a bedtime story, get your kids to ask their sailor for a “bedtime dit please”. 

When out and about and in need of caffeine, tell your service person to “get the wets in”.

When your sprog does something particularly well, like gets 10/10 on their spellings, make sure to tell them it was “BZ” within earshot of your sailor. 

And finally if he is in need of a compliment, or you’re hoping to get your groove on simply sidle up to him, stare into his eyes lovingly and tell him “hey their gorgeous, looking turbo divs tonight” and watch him glow with amor (or be completely gobsmacked).

  
Another twist on Jill Speak if you truly want to create that Navy Ship feel at home (Kirsty Allsop eat you heart out) is to start calling all family members and friends by a different name!

Base their new Navy Nickname on something they did years ago that no one really remembers, a physical characteristic or (very very) loosely connected to their existing name. So if you have a Great Aunty Audrey she could now and forever be referred to as “Hepburn”, “Hep” or “Burnsy”. 

Remember the more embarrassing the story that inspired the name or the more random and difficult to figure out, the better. For real authenticity dont explain the new name to anyone. Ever.

  
If your Popeye is deployed then you can still play Jill Speak! You can easily sneak phrases into emails or when chatting on the phone. The stunned silence and (usually) string of baffled expletives that follow are well worth the phone card minutes.  It also pretty much guarantees a speedy email reply (unless comms are down of course) along the lines of “how do you know that word? I don’t like you using Jackspeak. You’ve freaked me out Olive!” Good times. 

However you decide to play Jill Speak have fun. Get creative and get the whole family onboard! See how many you can think of and shoehorn into everyday chit chats with your Popeye. 

Do let me know how you get on. 

Lots of love,

Olive X 

Deployment Detectors™: The hidden menace in your house. 

This is a washing machine. Fairly normal right? Just a run of the mill bog standard white household appliance.

  
 
But wait! Look a little closer.

That washing machine is in the house of a service person!

Recent research has brought to light a startling discovery, brace yourselves:

All household appliances built post WWII have built in Deployment Detectors™. 

Deployment Detectors™ are a microscopic nano technology, invisible to the naked eye, that can easily be incorporated into motherboards, microchips, petrol caps, fridge lights and electrical plugs. These teeny weeny microchips can fit literally anywhere and in any piece of equipment you need to use in order to carry on as a functioning member of society.

  
Yes, I hear you cry, but what do they do?! 

Well, after extensive and thorough testing at Oyl Labs we have found that Deployment Detectors™ use sophisticated sensors to monitor the environment. And in the house of a military family their true purpose is revealed.

  
 

When a deployment has begun, a chain reaction of drinking wine, having a good old cry, installing a countdown app on your phone and sleeping in “his” dirty t shirts causes certain pheromones to be emitted by the partner of said service person. 

These deployment pheromones are picked up by household appliances fitted with a Deployment Detector™  which springs into life, randomly shooting out electrical/mechanical/spiritual signals into the appliance. 

Deployment Detectors™ cause the appliance to break without warning. But only when your service person has left on deployment. 

  

Note: They are at their most effective when you are late for work, have looked forward to something all day and/or have too much month left at the end of the money. 

Why do Deployment Detectors™ exist?

Good question. Here at Oyl Labs we can only surmise that it was some evil Nazi plot to drive military wives and girlfriends over the edge during deployment. A second, more modern theory is that Isis have in fact infiltrated most high street retailers and they are doing this because they hate to see women (and men) kick ass coping with deployment. Further research is needed to determine the true origins of these devices. 

All I can say for now is be vigilant, and don’t fight it. Expect for household appliances to break as soon as your Popeye sails over the horizon. And expect it to break at the most stressful time with the most stressful repercussions.

Knowledge is power.

(Olive Oyl is in no way affiliated with Deployment Detectors™. All associations mentioned herein are coincidental. Research carried out under strict laboratory conditions at Olive Towers Laboratorys (Inc) and adhered to health and safety regulations (2005). All published data is attributed to Olive Oyl Labs©.)

Sleepy sailors

Is it just my sailor that has some navy induced narcolepsy syndrome or is it ALL sailors?!

How is it that they can fall into a deep deep sleep at the drop of a hat, mid sentence- no matter where they are or what is going on?!

Even if it’s a very important relationship type convo, even if you are annoyed with them. Even if you are at the IOW festival and there are wheelie bins flying past your tented head at a gazillion mph. 

With a “yes dear” and a small nod of the head, his eyelids close and no amount of talking or poking will wake him up. Even after 8 hours of solid slumber. 

I’ve only once resorted to putting on my loud speaker voice and saying authoritatively  “Leading Hand Popeye report to the galley, Leading Hand Popeye-Galley”.

He shot out of bed looking v v confused, then v v pissed off as he realised he was in fact at Casa del Oyl and not in his pit onboard.

How very mean of me indeed. 

Worked though. 😉

X

  

Leave lists 

They’ve only just got in the door, you’ve stuck the kettle on and already your mind is whirring. 

Like a lioness about to pounce on an innocent grazing (nautical themed) gazelle you judge whether it’s time to strike. 

  

On the outside you’re gazing doe eyed at your sailor as they sip their tea. On the inside you are crouched, coiled with tension, waiting and watching.

They lean back with goofy, satisfied smile. 
“Ahh, that’s better, it’s so good to be home.” Says your Popeye. 

You murmur in reply “It’s so good to have you home” with a smouldering gaze through fluttering eyelashes. 

All the while your lioness half is debating with yourself “Is this the time? Is this the time to strike?!” 

You mull it over for a few seconds, blood coursing through your veins. Heart pounding. Pulse racing. 

 You’ve waited so long for this, you need this. Your mind is spinning with fantasies you’ve been dreaming about during your time apart. 

Popeye goes for his second sip of tea. 

Now” whispers the lioness “just do it now, whilst he’s vulnerable”. 

……. 

You stand up, walk over to him, and get it out.

Placing the innocuous piece of paper down between you both, breathing heavily, trembling with excitement, you begin. 

“Popeye I need you, no, I want you to…. 

….. put the Christmas decorations in the loft, mow the lawn, hang that picture frame, ooh and Sweetpeas flat pack nursery furniture arrives tomorrow so you need to put that together too, the driveway needs pressure washing…” 

You can’t stop. It feels so good. So satisfying. 

You keep talking faster and faster, listing more and more jobs until Popeye just can’t take it anymore and you finish with a climax “Oh and can you sort out the shed, it’s a tip!” 

It feels so good. Finally you get what you need. 

All those weeks of dreaming and now those fantasies  are coming true. 

The “to do” list will be done. 

Oh yeah…

Muchos love

X

Kisses and hugs.

When Popeye was first deployed I was chuffed to bits that he had signed me up to receive Link Letters.

It was great, a good way to find out what was going on onboard during the deployment.

Each letter was written by the ships Executive Officer, Robert Williams, and was signed with his name at the bottom, and on the next line, “XO”.

“Why is he putting hugs and kisses at the end of the link letter? Is it all of them? Just me? A typo? What is going on?!”

After a few months had gone past I finally told Popeye.

“I love these Link Letters Popeye, but the ships Executive Officer seems a tad unprofessional, to the point that I think he might be flirting! The thing is, and, please, don’t get angry, but he keeps putting kisses and hugs at the end of each letter.”

After about ten minutes of laughing till the tears were falling, Popeye managed to choke back a guffaw long enough to tell me that, “dear Olive, those aren’t hugs and kisses, XO means EXecutive Officer“.

I have never been able to live this down and to this day we refer to all XO’s as the ” Kiss Hug Man”.

True story.

Lots of love,
Olive,

XO

20141006-013612-5772540.jpg

Pussers socks

I need to rant, a straight up rant.

Until very very recently I thought I was the only one who had a major hate problem towards an inanimate object, specifically clothing.

That was until I posted on a Facebook page for navy wives about my hatred towards said item of clothing.

I was amazed at the response. I am not alone in my hatred of pussers socks!!!! Other wives too have told me that they can’t stand them!

First of all, for those of you lucky enough to not have these items of clothing in your life/laundry bin, pussers socks are of the devil navy issued thick black socks.

“Olive, why all the negative nelly-ness? They’re only socks, how bad can they be?” I hear you cry.

Well they aren’t just any old socks, these socks may be self aware. Or at least up to no good. Let me elaborate.

They are basically made of something akin to Velcro, they attract ALL hair and ALL fluff that your husbands feet may encounter. And when you live with me (I’m a moulter) and a hairy Westie dog then the socks become a veritable lint roller for the floor.

20140611-182644-66404729.jpg

It doesn’t matter how many times you wash them, those hairs ain’t never coming out. Ever. Ever.

So then you end up storing all the socks up for when you’re doing a load of towels or, what is even more ridiculous, just doing a load of washing exclusively of pussers socks. Which obviously is a little bit bonkers because, well they’re socks for goodness sake.

Another strange quality these socks possess is that, once brought home from the issuing depot, and worn and taken off, they will never match again. Each sock is made of a slightly different weave/pattern/thickness and you will drive yourself crazy if you try to match them into pairs. Don’t even try. The different thickness would really annoy me, but if Popeye thinks I’m going to spend ages sorting out those beasts, he better get himself another wife!

And they seem to be able to move. One navy wife said that she swears they multiply in the drawer. I thought about this and it makes perfect sense. They separate from their pairs and then go in search of a mate that is biologically different from themselves, once found they disappear into the drawer, or, in my house (the reason for the original Facebook rant) under the bed, where they bump uglies (which is the whole sock I imagine) and make new, giant thick socks to annoy you. You will find nests of these socks only once your hubby has deployed and he is safely thousands of miles away.

All you can do is destroy the nests and return them to the sock drawer. We used to share an undies drawer but now, because of the socks, Popeye has a whole drawer basically just filled with them, bursting at the seams.

Another navy wife made an interesting point, that also applies to Popeye. Sailors, it’s seems love these socks. They think they’re comfy. And stylish, Popeye wears his even when not at work. And I can only assume, seductive, based on the reports of partners attempting to play footsie with the beasts on their feet. (Err no, I don’t think so, I’ve got a headache.)

In the interests of science I have worn them before, and I’ve just put on a pair now to evaluate their comfort level. Yes they are thick, and I imagine very nice and warm during winter. But these socks are issued year round, and below decks is usually a balmy mix of BO and farts, not exactly “snuggly socks” conditions. They are also scratchy and nylony. Ok I guess, but not anything I would get attached to.

I can only surmise that sailors get attached to these strange socks because they are navy issue, and therefore have almost a nostalgic place in their heart. They are reliable I guess, and they are practical. But they are still totally gross and far far too big for any normal footed sized man, they go past my knee.

I know it’s a really weird thing to be grossed out about, but they truely are massive, unmatching and seemingly never clean. The sheer volume of them is what really takes the mick. And the fact that I am sure they wait for hubster to deploy, before emerging into the light in their swarms.

The Phone Ninja

So this is my first blog, so I’m apologising in advance for possible rubbishness.

I would like to discuss a phenomenon close to my heart, one that occurs each deployment. I’ll try to be informative, supportive and witty, but really I just want to reassure myself that I am not completely insane for several months of the year.

Today’s blog is about how I morph from a (fairly) rational, calm, organised (yeahhh….) and generally Independent Woman into “The Phone Ninja”.

The transformation

Ahem…so let me paint a picture for you, the darling love of life sailor has finally left (see my other blog post- “Why doesn’t he just GO!” coming soon).

You’re at home, and if you’re clever (I have never done this), you will have several fantastically distracting activities planned for the next 48 hours.

For the rest of us (OK maybe just me)… you come home, phone your mum, cry, get annoyed by the “It’ll fly by pickle” type conversation, open a bottle of wine and watch Bridget Jones/Twilight/Ghost (delete as appropriate). After a while you put on Destiny’s Child or similar “I can do this” type music. This continues until you realise he really isn’t calling, upon which you pull yourself together and GO TO BED.

And this is where the Phone Ninja begins to emerge. You take all forms of possible communication to bed with you. Mobile phone, home phone, laptop (with facebook chat loaded up), carrier pigeon etc. Just in case they call.

This “just in case” way of thinking takes over whilst they’re deployed. Even if you are a sensible, well rounded and secure individual. Even if you cram every waking moment with wholesome projects- last time mine were: 1)Learn Italian                            2)Take up horse riding                   3)Lose 2 stone

(None of these happened.)

Quickly you find yourself morphing into “woman with phone”.

The phone is never more than 3 metres away from you. It’s on top of the wash basket when you carry a load downstairs. It’s on the side of the sink when you’re in the shower, precariously balanced between the carex and the electric toothbrush. When you leave it somewhere you have a nagging feeling you’ve forgotten something essential, like clothes, until you realise you’re not near it. You conduct experiments to see how far the wireless signal reaches around your cul de sac…..

You become…… “The Home Phone Ninja”.

Over the first few weeks of the deployment you amaze yourself with fantastic feats to get to that ringing phone. You can drop roll over the bed after vaulting up the stairs in 5 seconds flat. And you begin doing dummy runs to improve your best time. You can hear, locate and answer the ringing phone even when completely asleep at 3am…and learn that you shouldn’t answer the phone with “is that you R Pattz?” You can easily simultaneously pull off washing up gloves and hurdle your bemused dog. (Don’t worry they stop cowering after the first few times-when they realise you can clear them in one bound).

Some Navy SWAGs are able to do all the above with babies and children in tow. This is something I haven’t had to tackle yet. To those ladies I raise my hat and sincerely applaud you. You are most likely black belt Phone Ninjas. I want to hear about your Ninja Skills. Any tips for when I have a mini Popeye on hip would be gratefully appreciated.

Friends and family.

God help any friends or family if they are standing between you and your phone call. Thoughts of how quickly you can bring them down and answer the phone in less than 10 seconds flash through your head. My friends and family must see these thoughts in my eyes as they are remarkably quick at getting out of the way.

Several times when I’ve got guests the phone has rung and I’ve yelled like a banshee from the loo-“ANSWER THE PHONE IT MIGHT BE POPEYE!!!” Whilst simultaneously trying to pull up my knickers and wash my hands.

REALLY GOOD friends will answer the phone for you at inopportune moments like this after only once seeing you charge down the stairs like a rhino trying to do up your trousers in one hand whilst reaching out for the phone in the other.

Being a Phone Ninja is a useful test of who your friends really are. The friends that just ‘get it’ and understand your temporary loss of sanity when you hear the ringtone are worth their weight in gold. Those ‘friends’ who think you are silly, overreacting or just plain mental should politely be asked to sod off.

True friends understand that the sound of the phone ringing instantly makes your pulse race and your heart flutter.  It’s the call you may have been waiting weeks for. True friends understand and will embrace the Phone Ninja you have become.

Lots of love to you all, hope you enjoyed reading,

 

Olive Oyl x