Reflections on Human Feelings by Hightown Writers 'What About This One?' by Marie Sever

 'What about this one?' I asked my wife. Joan's shrug denoted rejection yet again. We'd been sitting at the laptop for well over an hour. I wanted to get in my Porsche and pop over to see Alec, my mate. But I have to sit through this interminable search on the internet. She'd been searching for the perfect chandelier for two months now.

When we won £126 million on the lottery I hadn't realised how drastically, and for me, unhappily, our lives would change. The house isn't even built yet but she's spent millions on the fittings. Do we really need solid gold taps in our en-suite? And why do we need ten bedrooms, eleven reception rooms, a pool, sauna and steam room and a lift? She's planned a room for every occasion - crafts (she can't make anything half decent); a home cinema;  an cavernous dining room; three sitting rooms and various other rooms whose purpose eludes me.

I thought winning the lottery would make our lives more comfortable. I gave up work which I soon regretted. Twenty-two years of leaving the house five days a week and seeing my wife only weekends and evenings morphed into being thrown together 24/7. I hadn't realised how much she irritated me. And I her I suppose. It took her only a few months to alienate my friends. 'They are too common.' If I see them it has to be when she is busy spending money. Whereas she sees her friends frequently, and no doubt showed off her designer clothes and diamonds.

Holidays now are in Mauritius and Cannes. 'Bournemouth? Why on earth do you want to go to Bournemouth?'

'But we go to Bournemouth every year. We like Bournemouth,' I reminded her.

'That was when we didn't have enough money for anywhere else. The world is our oyster now. Did you remember to buy oysters today? Celia and James will enjoy those tonight. I hope that chef and his team we've hired are as good as they claim.'

I pointed to another chandelier on a French antique web site. 'No, that's too big. The room has a low ceiling, and is only the size of a box room in a semi-detached house. You know that.'

Fifteen minutes later she shrieked, 'This one, it's perfect. Come and look.' I sauntered over and read the 27,000 Euro price tag.

'Yes, that will go perfectly in the linen cupboard,' my wife said with satisfaction.

(First Published in a Hightown Writers Anthology A Book of Delights 2016)