by T. Jessop
Was about to move on when someone said, ‘What’s that sound?’Everybody took the same intake of breath and in the silence was the faint sound of a little girl’s voice. Panic ensued, lol. Be careful what you wish for. It got louder and we could easily hear the words to ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’. I said aloud what others wanted to, that this was the most creepy demonic thing they’d heard. Then it was gone. We felt it was definitely a much-needed fag break next. Returned to the hall, got our jackets and was about to light a fag when she was back and clearly in the room with us, the singing louder than ever. Two of the women in the group started crying, Joe and Terry were now practically sharing the same chair. All eyes were on me.
If I’m honest I was on the verge of bolting when I realised I knew that voice. Daisy? Reaching into my pocket and retrieving my mobile, there was a message from Andy: ‘Hey, did you love it? We recorded it earlier and I changed your message alert to play it. ‘As I’ve said before, nowt funnier than fear on a person’s face, lol. Try eighteen at once.
Wednesday 16th May 2014
Mutley vets 10am.
Positioned on very thick plastic sheeting and won’t be given any bribe treats beforehand.
Friday the 18th May 2014
Is it me, or does everyone living here expect others to clear up after them? Oh, I get it, ‘others’ is me, then.
Another thing, why oh why do we get badgered by our kids to give them a house key? They insist they’re responsible enough to have one and that we’re insulting them by even thinking that they’re not, yet no sooner do we relent, the bastards never have it on them, or they lose it which they somehow try and blame on us, cos obviously I’ve got nothing better to do than hide keys, unless I indeed have put them in the ‘safe place’, then fair do’s. A revolving front door would be easier than me getting up and down to open it.
Saturday 19th May 2014
Leg wax 2pm.
Legs nicely waxed. What’s the point of women waxing the top lip? Can’t say I’ve noticed very often when a woman’s got a moustache, but I can always spot a waxed one, strange!
BBQ tomorrow for Joe’s birthday, Chloe and Paul have arrived at her mum’s, and Elizabeth and Arthur are enroute to the hotel in Knightsbridge.
Monday 21st May 2014
Joe’s 39th birthday.
The BBQ was a success: no mishaps or trips to the emergency room, gotta be a first. Abigail blew us out to take Virgil for lunch at Sandra’s and her dad’s.
Chloe and Paul left at five this morning, Elizabeth and Arthur left late last night as they’re meeting Edward for lunch today before they head off back to the Big Apple. Just realized it’s Monday and Chris has gone swimming with Abigail and Penny rather than the docs: she must be ill, lol. Julie will be around about six-ish to give Joe his gifts: heaven help us. Then I and he are heading off to dinner for his birthday.
Wednesday 23rd May 2014
Hairdresser 5pm.
Funniest thing ever! Virgil wants me to join his jogging club. Funny for two reasons: (1)Does he actually think I’d wanna be in his company?(2)Me jogging? Seriously? Exercise to me is like garlic to a vampire.
Thursday 24th May 2014
Was looking at Leigh earlier and was remembering what we got up to at their age. Mate! That’s scary.
Ooh ha ah hee! We was having a nice quite night in watching a film when there was a sound like something had fallen into the waste paper bin, which was next to Joe. In a panic, thinking he’d dropped one of his fruit pastilles he leans over to look: screams, literally. Then runs out to the kitchen. A little startled myself I sneak up to have a look, and sitting at the bottom is a mouse, shaking. I proceeded toward the back garden with mousey; bearing in mind it’s only about twenty steps to the patio doors it was taking forever, as every four steps I had to stop cos I couldn’t breathe for laughing. I was not sure who was more traumatised: Joe at the sight of the mouse, or the mouse receiving an ear-splitting scream from an enormous, very butch man.
Oh ha, I told you we had a mouse.
Friday 25th May 2014
Girls’ night Tina’s 7pm.
Much-needed night round Tina’s after the day I had. I’m not superstitious, but… ! Spent 45 minutes driving around the streets looking for a magpie. Chris had seen only the one in the garden and was convinced she’d have bad luck. I humoured her and went searching for another, as her bad luck ends up somehow my problem anyway.
The girls had me repeat the story of the mouse at least three times, lol. It’s never gonna get old.
Saturday 26th May 2014
Another disappointing thing that comes with age: you stop getting good crusty scabs. Kids always get the best ones. Those that don’t pick scabs would be thinking ‘filth’, and yeah, maybe so, but carefully plucking away at said crusty patch would keep us quiet for hours ‒ or at least until it bled.
BBQ again tomorrow, low key, just us.
Monday 28th May 2014
BBQ was most enjoyed yesterday. Only ripple in my pond was when Terry texted Joe to say Virgil was an amazing surfer and a cool guy. Both couples have gone to Cornwall and thought they’d hook up for the day at the beach. Hang on, I’m sitting in ‘care’ chair right now. That man could not be cool if he fell into liquid hydrogen. Chris skulked off to Mum’s around nine last night, complaining she’s had a pain in her neck for days (welcome to my world).Dad had to call the emergency doctor, as Chris had a massive lump that was now oozing green shit. By all accounts it looked like an abscess but turns out it was a bee sting that had gone unnoticed for days and gone manky. Only her.
The fair was in town today so we took the little ones. Sam won a goldfish. I could have bought one for £2, total attempts to win it cost £11, how convenient that the stall holder had bowls for sale +£6 this triggered cries of ‘ I want one!’Two bowls and four fish later, not much change from £50.
Joe not getting that I had to get a fish for each grandchild as Rosie is only six months old. What sort of woman would I be if not equal towards them all? Andy understood: well, said it’s my school of thought and I’m a nutter.
Jessica’s adamant that she’ll be having no filthy bowl in her house, so they’re here.
Tuesday 29th May 2014
Went for a Burton down the stairs last night. Only four steps from the bottom, slipped grabbed the hand rail and stooped backwards like an extra from the Matrix. My feet were running on the spot as I tried desperately not to land on my arse, mid-flailing I caught my foot in Tony’s sports bag, the one I’d put there earlier under the sad illusion that he would actually take it up, so foot in nylon bag on carpeted stairs I skidded to ground level, each footfall sounding like the guy in the military band with the big drum banging. Forgot to let go of the rail so as gravity wrenched my carcass downwards I had the pleasure of feeling all the muscle and tendons tear in my shoulder. Before I hit the floor I could hear Tony and Leigh upstairs wetting themselves, as was I. Joe, who is not so spritely at the best of times, was in the garden, heard the banging and came galloping at full speed like a startled gazelle, looking terrified as to what state I would be in. Started trying to drag me up, whispering, ‘Come on now, before the kids see. ‘Between the pain, snot and tears I nearly laughed myself sick. Why don’t men laugh? Well, if Joe’s answer is anything to go on, be afraid: ‘A woman is the key holding the family together, so if she cacks it, how’s he gonna cope?’Gee and there was stupid me thinking it was cos he cared xx
Wednesday 30th May 2014
Connor’s fish died. He wasn’t very impressed with the ‘Yippee, one down three to go. ‘Guilt has led me to the pet shop, lucky me! It was buy one, get one free. Perched on the counter in the kitchen the 3foot tank now sits with the annoying silent (only if you’re deaf) pump with seven ropey goldfish. A short service will be held this afternoon for Godzilla.
Thursday 31st May 2014
Chloe and Liz arrive London.
> Julie popped round after work and stated ‘Not only have you’ve been lumbered with the fish, you have now progressed to a tank, you’ll be digging a pond soon. ‘Hell will freeze over first: I paid three grand to have the garden landscaped. I immediately defended myself and threw down the gauntlet of ‘Fifty quid says I won’t, so put your money where your mouth is, woman.’ Shit, she took the bet, then texted Elizabeth and Chloe. Elizabeth, not one to partake in gambling, said she knew a sure thing so she too has taken the bet. Chloe too. I take offence at the lack of belief from my mates.
Girls’ night at mine tomorrow. Might tell them all to fuck off xx
Saturday 2nd June 2014
Chloe and Elizabeth both made it to girls’ night last night. Wished I didn’t have it here as I had the piss taken out of me all-night about the tank. Chloe headed back this morning. Elizabeth is staying until tomorrow so we’re going to squander some cash up Oxford Street, get some dinner. The boys are holding poker at ours so I won’t be rushing back.
Tuesday 5th June 2014
Sunday was uneventful. Yesterday began with the arrival of ‘pond man’ at 8.30am.
Note to self: Really must join that assertiveness class. And for the so-called mates, the cheques are in the post.
I waited with bated breath that pond man would be a fit young stud. Seriously, who was I kidding? Fit for fuckall. Young? Sixty-two if he’s a day. He kept winking at me, and I’m pretty certain he was wearing a wig. (I take that back.) Guess this is what happens when you let the husband pick workman: a man is not gonna invite a young, attractive sex god into your home and leave him unattended in your care. After all, let’s just say I am having a mid-life crisis, but hey! That don’t mean I’d sleep with some bloke because he’s young and trim. Took photo and sent it to Julie. Julie commented I could be in there if I played my cards right, which caused me to ask if ‘monogamy’ means anything to her. Answer: ‘Aint that a board game where you buy streets?’
Baby’s party had far too many kids at it, lol. And I defiantly had far too much wine. Give a shit? Nope.
Wednesday 6th June 2014
How aggravating that when the other half can’t open a jar (real hit to masculinity) and you do it, he always has to pipe up, ‘I loosened it.’
Thursday 7th June 2014
Elizabeth and Arthur’s anniversary.
Elizabeth emailed me to say that guilt had got the better of her and she confessed her affair to Arthur. Shockingly (only to Elizabeth, not the rest of us), he has owned up to knocking off the Embryo. Shocker number two was instead of separating they are gonna continue with all the relationships.WTF? Gonna need a bit of time to get my brain round that one.
Saturday 9th June 2014
Why, when you stub your big toe, does your brain give you enough time to think ‘Oh shit!’ before the pain sets in? Pain enough to bring you to your knees and start gagging. Or maybe it’s the brain that screams just before shutting down, thus leaving you to deal with the pain on your own. Also, why do we hold it like our very life depends on it, pausing only long enough to sneak a peek at the very hot throbbing digit concealed within your fist. I definetely came off worse than the coffee table last night at Chris’s.
Awoke this morning to cluttering and banging. Stumbled ‒ well, hobbled, as toe is still throbbing‒ downstairs and quickly realised why I have Joe so heavily insured: he wanted to attach the pond pump to the wall so was knee deep in the pond armed with an electric drill. Yes, I said electric drill, in hand. I’m not writing this from Bermuda so yes, he made it. In Joe’s defence, he needs insuring against me most of the time. Err, I must have hit more than my toe if I’m sympathising with him.
Sunday 10th June 2014
Chris rang late last night screaming there was a pervert in her back garden making weird noises near the window. Joe drove round there and found nothing. He did a thorough search of the garden but found no trace of any intruders. He went back today and fitted locks on her windows.
Abigail is taking Virgil to lunch with the parents again, lol. If I know Sandra, it won’t be long before she’ll put him in his place, lol
Bollocks. Chloe texted to say her mum thinks he’s wonderful. What’s wrong with everybody?
Monday 11th June 2014
Chris was at the docs this morning with palpitations. Gonna forgive her that one: if I thought I had a weirdo in my garden I’d be having them as well.
Joe asked me to phone the AA this morning to check his expiry date on his policy, and I got the really posh bird who kept asking me to repeat what I’d said. How insulting! I was born and bred in London so it’s inevitable that I speak this way: in a nutshell, ‘common as cat shit’. I have been picked on all my life for the way I speak, mainly by idiots who speak like they’ve got their thumb up their arse.
The argument is always the same: who’s right and who aint? I watched a programme once that had investigated the whole issue thoroughly and the experts stated that the way I speak is in fact ‘proper’ English. All of society who speaks with a plum in their mouth is actually working very hard to vocalise in this manner because it requires an unnatural formation of the sounds. I watch people and it seems too much like hard work to talk posh. For me to have a good chin wag I open my gob and the words easily flow out, I can easily slip from one subject to another, whereas the posh type are concentrating so hard to pronounce every ‘T ‘they don’t seem to be enjoying the conversation. What’s the point of that, then? Wot ya see iz wot u get. This, it seems, applies to all classes.
Tuesday 12th June 2014
Yesterday saw me being judged for the way I talk, then today I got eye-balled by the ‘larger lady ‘in the clothes shop when I asked the assistant if she had the jeans I was holding in an 8.Should I go there? Yes. I have never been on a diet, have never needed to diet, I am one of those hated women who eat anything that’s not nailed down and never gain an ounce. Larger people are not the only ones who are judged for their size, sneered at, taunted. I’ve been accused of being bulimic, anorexic, slagged off, ridiculed, been made to feel guilty, spiteful, arrogant and even ashamed. I am one of only a few in my entire family this size; the average is big. I will offer words of support to anyone who says they’re dieting, note the changes, comment how well they’re doing… in return I’ve been attacked with snide looks and spiteful comments, like, ‘How would you know what it’s like?’ Fair do’s, I don’t know what it’s like to watch what I eat, but I do know what it’s like to be judged by appearance and to be verbally attacked for my dress size.
While I think of it, I can remember my Nan telling me about a medical scandal many eons ago about the miracle diet tablet which turned out to have a tapeworm egg in it. Gross, I know. I remarked to my mum, ‘What would you do if you had said parasite prescribed by your doc?’To which she replied, ‘I’d wait until I’d lost 2 stone, then have it removed.’ Still makes me smile.
Anyway, I believe there is too much focus on weight, and size(yeah, easy for me to say).But it’s true, everywhere we look, magazines, movies, TV we’re surrounded by beauty and perfection, rippling gym-toned bodies, designer clothing. Amazingly, even though every supermodel who’s been interviewed will say how all their advertising has been airbrushed; most of us have seen the photographic evidence of these people, warts and all, and we know that like the rest of us they look as rough as shark shit too. So why do we still believe that we can torture ourselves and we’ll look just like their pictures? Money: the industry know how to play on low self-esteem, no matter how ridiculous we may look, how much it will cost or how crap we will feel never achieving the look, as long as we’re lining their pockets.
This is another area us petites share with larger women: clothing. Correct me if I’m wrong, but when you do find a store that sells their larger sizes, and in my case petite, has anyone noticed the serious lack of variety and fashion? Larger clothing borders on retro hippie wear, or something your great aunt would w
ear to a funeral; small peeps are OK if you work in an office: trousers, smart blouse, cardigan. Apparently it appears from the apparel that us types don’t want to look cool or sexy. Obviously never socialize, or have someone to look good for. apparently the average UK dress size for women is a 16, so why then if I browse the shops do they have14/16s always in the sales? They should have flown out the door. The only thing I ever enjoy about clothes shopping is the garments that state ‘one size fits all’. I don’t think so, luv: said garment is either going to hang off you like a potato sack or fit so tight it makes your arse look like a bank robber.
Back to the issue of the weight itself, there are large people who through no fault of their own have only have to look at food to gain pounds, and hand on heart I do genuinely feel for them :if I want something I have it, based on that alone I know it must be hard. There are health issues for all of us, for some losing weight is paramount to their well-being. skinny women have to maintain their weight or would be very ill. That may sound patronising, but if I was to skip a meal I lose weight immediately; when I get about of flu or sickness and my appetite is gone, I still have to force myself to eat.
