Mid-Life Crisis

by T. Jessop

  Having now eaten everything that weren’t nailed down, boredom soon got the better of me again, so I thought I’d brave the situation and have a good look at the ‘bald patch’.

  Note to self: Don’t do it again, luv!

  Tuesday 10th January 2014

  Plumber 6pm.

  Not sure what takeaway Tony went to last night but I will not be eating from there, he has the worse gas ever. The plumber returned and has reaffixed the sink to the wall. What he charges, he should change his name to Dick Turpin.

  Slung stripper boots in wardrobe, momentarily paused to conclude that I can’t win: if I start dressing like a stereotypical middle-aged mum the kids are gonna say I’m an embarrassment, yet if I commit to urges and dress trendy and young (and it’s a serious urge) they’re gonna say I’m an embarrassment. Yeah, well. It’s a two-way street sometimes: the way they dress is embarrassing, fashionable or not, and why do daughters sneer at the clothing we buy for ourselves with the ‘Alright for someone your age, I wouldn’t be seen dead in it!’.Why, then, does same said article find its way into her wardrobe? No point retrieving the item now as you can’t wear it through fear of being accused of wearing your daughter’s clothing, which is rather ‘sad’.

  Made a constructive decision to be calm: MLC, worrying about smear results, all stress I don’t need if I’m going to avoid more balding of the head.

  Mum called, Cousin Karen had her smear results through Friday, they came back abnormal. Cheers, Mum. They wanted to see Karen again in three weeks. Fearing the worst, as we all do, she demanded they see her immediately; they informed her there were no sooner appointments so Karen said she’d pay. She was seen that evening by the same doctor who wasn’t available without a fee. Not looking good for the doctor. Her Gary gets let out two weeks from now and I’ve got a funny feeling he’s about to break his parole. Thanx again, Mum. xx

  Wednesday 11th January 2014

  Went to see how Chris was getting on with the decorating. Don’t know why I thought she’d be doing it herself: materials and labour all billed to secret daddy, as usual. As a sixteen-year-old groupie she may not have got her man, but she did get five of his eight children: all conceptions match UK tour dates, lol. Still, at least it’s always been amicable, his wife and other kids have never had a problem with it, so happy families all round and none of them have ever wanted for anything.

  Called Chloe and they’re making a start on the restoration of the farmhouse this week. Pauls made friends with their neighbour Derek and will be popping over to his farm, 7 acres away, as Derek is letting him borrow his ram Titan. Apparently he’ll hump anything. The ram, not Derek. At least I think that’s right. With this offer they could double their stock within a year. Very generous.

  Tony’s gut rot has progressed to hideous. Wallpaper is starting to peel.

  Thursday 12th January 2014

  Chloe called this morning, restoration commenced. Paul ripped out all the carpets and to their surprise uncovered the most beautiful wooden floors; she gave them a mop and they’ve retained all the original lustre. Wooden floors would be great for Chloe to brush up her tap dancing just in case Gene does appear.

  We are now referring to Tony’s guts as the ‘Grim’, cos it is. Will not ‒ and I mean will not ‒ ever eat fried chicken from a fast food establishment. If that stench hasn’t subsided by tomorrow I’m taking him to hospital. Thank god we don’t have a canary.

  Friday 13th January 2014

  Not had much sleep as Chris was calling me from the airport this morning: Friday the 13th and Chris’s nerves were shot to shit as Molly and Baby were flying home from California. I will never get how she bagged herself a pop star. I managed to doze back off when I was woken by a frantic call from Chloe: she’s woken up covered in large red itchy lumps. I wake up every morning with one of them and it snores.

  Ooh, mystery of dodgy roast potatoes solved. Joe told me we had no cooking oil left, I told him it was in the usual place, after another look he declared ‘Nope, only a bottle of lime cordial.’ That explains the flavour and the physical response to the spuds.

  Luckily for Tony the ‘Grim’ seems to have gone; it was so bad I thought we were gonna have to enlist the help of the Vatican as it was nothing short of a demonic possession.

  Saturday 14th January 2014

  Leg wax 2pm.

  As we’re babysitting tonight we have Baby and Molly too, so Chris has gone to dinner at Abigail’s. Rang Chloe to see how she was and the itching has become unbearable. She’s been to the doctor and he suggested it could be bites. Then asked her if their bed was old. Insulted she told him he’d a bloody cheek, as they were all brand new, so now he’s ruling out bed bugs. Still, on return to the farm Chloe has immediately hoovered all the mattresses and trailed through a pile of dead skin flakes to put her mind at rest. I thought she took it well, considering we’re talking bed bugs. Errgh, dunno about hovering the mattress, I’d have torched the joint.

  Note to self: Where it concerns Chris, this conversation did not happen.

  Sunday 15th January 2014

  Chris picked up the girls around ten and headed off to Nan’s.

  I needed to change a plug so I headed for the one place for such a job: The Crap Drawer! Every home has one, filled to the brim with loose change, old playing cards, odd toy pieces, drawstring from old track pants, and let’s not forget the random compasses that prick your finger every time you start rummaging. It’s just all crap, you can never find what you thought was in there, then you can’t shut it. You have to reach in, pushing all the shit to the back, So’s you can close the drawer, which never works and the drawer has to be left open by an annoying inch.

  Monday 16th January 2014

  Joe football.

  Shopping.

  Another frantic call from Chloe this morning: her lumps are multiplying in amount and size, she says she can feel things crawling on her skin but she can’t see anything. Paul thinks she’s losing the plot and is at present waiting for a reply from the soap powder company, having contacted them in the hope they’ve changed the ingredients. Logic tells me they haven’t, but I’ll let Chloe live in hope. Unlike Elizabeth, who emailed Chloe last night with the opinion that the trauma of the move is the cause and suggested Chloe should see a psychiatrist.

  Chris appeared after lunch following her usual Monday jaunt to the doctors. Two weeks ago she showed me a lump on her elbow, stating it was a mole that looked funny. On closer inspection I’d told her it looked funny because it was a wart. Not happy with my blasé diagnosis, to the doctor she has gone and here she sat in tears because he’d told her it was ‘human papilloma virus’. Took me two minutes on the internet and much patience to prove it’s the medical name for a wart. In the end I had to call Mum for back-up. She arrived with a sirloin, rubbed it on the wart, then buried the meat in the garden. Little does Chris know that twenty minutes after she left mine I saw Mutley run off with the freshly dug-up steak, and I’m in no mood to explain to Chris that it’s only a placebo, as I can guarantee she’ll think I’m talking about the garden shade and that I’ve developed a speech impediment, which will bring on a whole new set of panics.

  Tuesday 17th January 2014

  Car MOT 11am.

  Excellent customer service: not only did they return Paul’s call but the soap company have asked them to email a photo of the lumps with a full description of symptoms, which they will pass onto their dermatology department. Hmm, either they do have fantastic customer care or they know something we don’t.

  Sarah’s been barred from London transport because of an old biddy: some guy had got up to give her his seat on seeing she was heavily pregnant, and this old woman has shoved past Sarah and parked her arse on the seat. The guy told her she was bang out of order which triggered off a riot of old people tutting and sniping how the younger generations have no manners or respect. Sarah pointed out that if our generation had b
ehaved like them we’d have got a back-hander from our elders. The inspector being as old as the rest of them, banned Sarah. Still that’s not as bad as the time Mum saw a pregnant woman faint near the exit doors, the driver stopped, and before he could help the Weebles were tutting and stepping over her to get off the bus, as God forbid they miss their stop.

  Old people make me sick.

  Wednesday 18th January 2014

  Connor’s class presentation 9am.

  Connor has once again become the focus of everyone’s attention. At his class Open Day he was chosen to tell the story of Sleeping Beauty, aided in pictorial form by his classmates. Narrating and pointing to posters depicting each passage he reaches the one that has but one thing drawn on it ‒ the size and shape was already raising a few smiles amongst the younger parents when Connor proudly says in the clearest and loudest voice, ‘This is the prick and Beauty touched it.’ Obviously a poorly drawn needle, funny as hell, which escalated to hilarious as with arms folded across his chest and a pout he shouted, ‘Aint funny, it hurt Beauty when it went in!’

  Soap people contacted Chloe this afternoon and according to their specialist the lurgy is being caused by too much histamine being released into her system. They have advised she call the Environmental Health and if all else fails they have offered to have her tested at an allergy clinic free of charge.

  Thursday 19th January 2014

  Mutley vets 9am

  Chloe rang the Environmental Health this morning, she explained what’s been happening and somewhere amongst the blokes’ laughter they came round to the farm. Unofficial diagnosis: Chloe is mental. Professional opinion was that when Paul ripped out the carpets something got released in the dust that didn’t like her, hence the allergic reaction. House has now been sprayed. Still, we had a good laugh remembering when Elizabeth’s sister had a rat in her loft: Environmental would have come out for free but she opted to pay £300 because the company she booked assured her they didn’t have anything written on their vans, thus hiding from the neighbours what they had come to do. When they pulled up, true to their word there was no logo plastered on the vehicle. Instead there was a 2 foot fibreglass cockroach on its roof.

  Friday 20th January 2014

  Shopping with Julie 9am

  Went shopping with Julie and I saw a really nice dress in the sale: it screamed my name, right up to the moment I tried it on and I looked like crap. Obviously made in mind for a woman with a DDD chest, and considering I have breasts like spaniel’s ears I put it back on the rack. Isn’t getting stretch marks sacrifice enough for bringing life into this miserable world? Made more miserable by Julie pointing out hers were still as pert as they were twenty years ago. Yeah, well, that’s cos she bought them that way.

  Phoned Chloe again: the lumps are finally going down. Paul’s ripping out the last of the carpets today so Chloe’s off out all day through fear of being eaten alive again. God, I hope they make sure all flooring is gone before Chris goes for a visit, Gods in Heaven forbid she actually caught something real.

  Saturday 21st January 2014

  Girls’ night Tina’s 7pm.

  Spent the evening around Tina’s, several of us accompanied by even more bottles of wine. We were having a great evening until we convinced Tina she would look good in Julie’s new 6inch heels, so one minute she was parading up and down the upstairs hallway admiring herself in the mirror, the next instant: gone. Who in their right mind has a mirror on the wall at the top of the stairs? She tumbled down the stairs for what seemed a lifetime before laying in a heap at the bottom, with blood coming from a split lip. At the sight of claret, Chris has passed out. Julie had to be restrained as she began shouting, ‘Hope you haven’t scuffed my heels!’ I was as usual to be found on the floor, screaming with laughter. Among the madness we did manage to call Terry, who carted her off to hospital accompanied by Julie. Not sure if she went for Tina’s benefit or cos she didn’t want to let her new shoes out of her sight. Chris made a full recovery when Penny threw a handful of cold water in her face. Great night. xx

  Sunday 22nd January 2014

  Was quite happily sleeping off last night’s crate of wine when I was woken by a blood-curdling scream this morning. I ran out into the street where neighbours from both sides were standing on Mary’s driveway. From within she was screaming ‘Please help me!’ Joe immediately kicked the door in and I rushed past him, my heart in my throat, and Joe in tow we entered her lounge. She was stood still with all the colour gone from her face, crying. She slowly points to her left leg and whispered between sobs, ‘There’s a mouse up my trousers.’ So kneeling down I carefully slid my hand up her trouser leg and grabbed the warm soft critter. I pulled it out to discover it was actually a rolled-up pair of tights that must have got caught up in her laundry. I turned to show Joe but he was nowhere to be seen ‒ so much for hero. I then spent the next half-hour trying to regain the strength in my legs and stop my hands shaking from the adrenalin rush that always comes after panic has passed.

  Monday 23rd January 2014

  Joe football.

  Shopping with Chris 10am.

  Was supposed to be going up town this morning, then Chris cancelled on me. I spoke to mum about half an hour later and she said Chris had phoned, mumbling something about unguis incarnates. Knowing my sister is not bright enough to have learnt to speak fluent Latin, or witchy incarnations…nope, she’s been to the doctors again. Oh surprise, surprise: alright, Cilla, lol. It is in fact an ingrown toenail. I’m beginning to think the doc gives her the scary names on purpose for his own amusement, good old boy. Believe me, there is nothing funnier than fear on someone’s face and Chris makes it so easy. Bless her.

  How can scissors vanish? No matter how many I buy ‒ and that’s easily got to be 50 pairs over the years ‒ I can only ever find the one pair that was blunted by the kids. Perhaps they’re in the ‘safe place’? Where is that, again? We all go there and squirrel away our prized possessions for safe-keeping but somehow its whereabouts always eludes us. As hard as I try I cannot think of anywhere in this bloody house that’s big enough to be hoarding all the things I’ve stowed away that could be invisible to the eye.

  Called Elizabeth. Oh, how funny is she? Always complaining she never has a minute to herself, charity luncheons (offloading guilt for lavish spending), seminars on life coaching (simple: just get a grip, luv), tennis, spa treatments, dance lessons, to name but a few… but cookery classes? What’s the point of the live-in chef? She did mention that Arthur’s been away all weekend on business, so maybe I’m being a bit harsh and these things she does keeps the loneliness at bay.

  Tuesday 24th January 2014

  Paul has bought a turkey chick to be fattened and consumed Christmas, aww.

  Penny popped in lunch time; apparently Chris had a meeting with Baby’s teacher this morning. It seems Baby has been enlightening everyone in her class how she met Bon Jovi when he came for a visit at her Dad’s house. The school don’t allow the telling of tales, Chris has had to agree to speak to Baby about her active imagination. Déjà vu: when Marie was little she told her classmates she’d spent the weekend on Elton John’s yacht. If only they knew.

  Leigh got back from shopping earlier, armed with several bags full of new outfits. I eagerly awaited the unveiling (a little too eager, I think) of the latest trend. Knowing I would probably wish I was twenty years younger, the reality was worse than anticipated as I saw clearly the same fashion had come round again, and for me it was the third time I’d seen it: not only as a teen, but still hanging in my wardrobe, thus highlighting that my clothes were as old as my kids.

  Wednesday 25th January 2014

  Christine’s 43rd birthday.

  Accompanied by Julie and Tina we took Chris shopping, then for a manicure and facial. We had lunch, got back about four, and by eight o’clock we were at the Dog & Duck where Chris preceded to cover every gay anthem on the karaoke list. Chris had a g
ood birthday overall and we got through the day without hiccups, and where that concerns Chris it is a very large bonus. Julie pulled some whelp; damn, she’s impressive to watch, as she actually does nothing and men gravitate toward her.

  Thursday 26th January 2014

  The weather’s been horrendous all day. Andy called about four to say they’ve decided to stay over another day in Yarmouth as the roads are not safe to drive on. Not sure what possessed them to take the take the kids to a water park in January. Gets it off his father.

  Chris asked me to pick the girls up from school as she’s feeling under the weather; not bloody surprised after last night’s obliteration of the Dog & Duck’s bar stock.

  Jeni and Jaki have arrived safely at the farm this morning. It will be nice for Chloe as the girls live in America, which means her and Paul don’t see them as much as they’d like.

  Julie came round to relay the grubby details of the whelp. Can’t help but admit the idea of an affair sounds exciting, but in all honesty ‒ let’s forget for a moment that I love Joe and wouldn’t want to hurt him ‒ I couldn’t be asked, I have neither the time nor the energy, the MLC is just a very awkward time between life and death. Not that I’m having one.