Mid-Life Crisis

by T. Jessop

  Wednesday 31st October 2014

  Halloween, taking kids trick or treating.

  Bit boring, I opted to be a witch (I could get more clothing under me dress).Joe went as batman from the 70s.

  This has to have been one of the funniest nights of my life, as always our street takes Halloween very seriously for the kids and all the houses were decorated to the highest standard. Especially the Richardson’s’: this year Jamie and Lisa incorporated the garage and Jamie had built a cage which had a live werewolf in it, rattling the metal bars ferociously as the kids approached. Daisy was a bit apprehensive so Joe puffed out his chest, took her hand, laughing and telling her there’s nothing to be afraid of, standing 2 foot from the cage as the creature snarled, clawed and rattled the bars. What Joe didn’t know was that some of the bars were actually rubber and as he mocked and jeered, the wolf whipped out through the bendy bars and was in Joe’s face. He let out such a scream that he startled the wolf, who turned to run and went face first into the metal bars, stiffened and fell on the floor. Through my tears all I could see was the fluttering of a blue cape as it ran down the driveway.

  The kids, although startled, were fine when they heard raucous laughter coming from the wolf. Apart from the pain in his side, Jamie was fine, just a little stunned. Was a bit of an awkward silence when we got back to ours: Joe was in the kitchen glass of brandy in his shaking hand and a ladder in his tights. Tony patted him on the shoulder and said, ‘You OK nowwo wow oww?’

  Sunday 4th November 2014

  Spent Friday afternoon shopping for Bonfire Night. Joe bought a ton of fireworks, I left him setting up the garden for the display of the century and buggered off round Tina’s for girls’ night, having paused to think whether or not I should tell them about Halloween, as it’s taken Joe two days to calm down and stop referring to Jamie as ‘fucking idiot’. Pause passed, and we proceeded to laugh for an hour or so; the more we drank the more someone texted him asking Joe, ‘What’s the time?’

  Saturday we had a full house for Bonfire Night and Joe showed he’d reached a new level of miser when it turns out the reason he’d bought so many fireworks was they were knocked off and cheap. He nearly killed us all: four exploded, taking out several stone planters; one blew a hole in the lawn; three went up a foot and half in the air, turned horizontal and just missed the little ones. At which point Mutley runs over to a newly lit rocket, grabs it in his teeth, runs around with it in his mouth, then legs it into the house. Luckily they were so crap it burned itself out before blowing the dog’s head off.

  Chris has gone to the Sunday market with Tina. I couldn’t be asked.

  Tuesday 6th November 2014

  Teacher Training Day.

  Note to self: Explain more clearly to a three-year-old what playing Pooh Sticks actually is, lol. xx

  Teacher Training Day, so Joe took the day off work and we thought we’d take the kids to the forest, feeling quite confident that no one would be retrieving any abandoned bags. Joe was not impressed as he was standing on the bridge, twig in hand ready to be thrown when a turd hits him in the head. With it still stuck in his hair he turns round and Daisy shouts ‘Granddad, yes it does!’

  Wednesday 7th November 2014

  Violet’s 52nd birthday.

  Julie and Penny are both having dinner at their mum’s for her birthday; let’s hope all goes well.

  One of Tony’s mates was getting a bit lippy earlier and I told him if I was his mother I’d slap him in the mouth. He laughed and said, ‘Well, you’re old enough to be.’

  Saturday 10th November 2014

  Poker night.

  The cat (clearly Joe’s pet as they have the same amount of brain cells) has again brought back another fish from the neighbour’s pond; purring and strutting with a cheeky ‘Oh look how clever I am’ look in his eyes. If only he was the courageous hunter, if only the furry bearer of gifts. Nah, it’s the pond weed he likes to collect, that’s my reward for his upkeep. As for the fish, they’re accidently tangled up in it when he pilfers it from the ponds.

  Monday 12th November 2014

  Joe football.

  Following the substantial snowfall on Saturday night, Sam and Connor were in the garden yesterday making a snow hoe! Stifled a snicker and duly bollocked Tony. Connor was using a rake to accumulate a good supply for Sam, who I myself thought was quite ingenious; Grandpa Grump did nothing but moan at them to be sure to put the rake away when they’d finished, as tools aint cheap.

  Thursday 15th November 2014

  Hairdresser 5pm.

  Had to trundle round the hairdressers tonight as she didn’t want to drive in the snow. She may only be five streets away but I’m knackered; my legs are killing me as you cannot walk normally in snow, you have to shuffle like an old fart.

  Was watching a documentary on the police force tonight and my heart goes out to them: shit job, the money’s nothing special and the risks and dangers are worse than ever. They put their lives in danger to catch the offenders, only then to be sued for doing their job, then the lawyers, judges and outdated laws fail to administer the adequate punishment, if any.

  Saturday 17th November 2014

  Jackie 25th birthday.

  Dinner at Chris’s 7pm.

  Week 7, two bent cookers, and now the supplier has sent an engineer round with replacement number three: a shiny aluminium hob. Er, hello! All my appliances are white; that is why I bought the new hob in white, people. I advised him as politely as possible that it would be good if he got out my house ASAP as I was going to punch him after he says, ‘I’m here now, I could fit it anyway, what’s in a colour?’

  Monday 19th November 2014

  After yet more snow falling heavily yesterday Joe thought he’d have a relaxing day off today. Seeing that the garden was covered by about 8 inches of snow he thought he’d better go check on the pond. I watched from the warmth of the kitchen as he slowly eased his way across where the path should be, knowing I’m waiting for him to slip arse over tit. Giving me a smug grin accompanied by the bird, he turned, took two-steps, suddenly stood bolt upright then dropped to his knees. No sooner had I slid open the patio door than he turned and scowled at me and I could see blood running through the fingers of his left hand which was covering his nose, and in his right was the rake.

  Thursday 22nd November 2014

  I was ear-wigging at the supermarket last night and I overheard two young assistants slating some poor cow from the cheese counter who had apparently had dry sex with some geek from the bakery; bit of luck it was Jonathon and he’ll save his eyesight. I was intrigued not by them but dry sex. Gotta be better than the wet kind. How disappointed to find out it’s fumbling with a bit of grinding, fully clothed. That has the same appeal as treating yourself to a cream cake and scraping out the cream. Julie has set me right that the point is, my poor deprived friend, you bump and grind till it’s unbearable, tear off the lower clothing and you’ll have the best two minutes of sex you’ve had for a long time. Two minutes? I could manage that; wonder if that includes foreplay, lol.

  Friday 23rd November 2014

  Girls’ night Tina’s.

  Another engineer arrived and fitted one of the bent hobs, assuring me the defect is so minor I won’t notice, at least we’ll be functional. Assuring me he will be back Saturday morning with the correct one.

  Julie kindly enlightened us this evening to the fact that spot-popping is hers and many others’ bag. I thought it was bad enough thinking it’s their own zits; nah,it’s much better if it’s someone else’s. Both Tina and Penny were in total agreement with Julie; these are the same people I know that called me disgusting for peeling skin. Er, hello girls. At least what I do doesn’t have filth fly out at you, or weeps when I’ve finished. Skanks. Ooh, gonna razz.

  Saturday 24th November 2014

  Week 8 since bane of my life began. ‘Functional’, he said. Yes. Right up till the mom
ent a pan came off the so-called ‘minor defect, won’t make a difference’ hob. The spillage was so bad I’ve had to rip out the flooring. More money to spend. Then phones to say he can’t get here today. Fucking idiot.

  Sunday 25th November 2014

  Oh my God, found myself tutting earlier.

  Was watching as Connor wiped his nose on the sleeve of his coat. I was about to speak when he asks, ‘Why are these called cuffs?’

  Monday 26th November 2014

  Joe football.

  Shopping.

  Joe asked me why we’d never had the ‘sex’ talk with our kids? Quite simply, they’d have laughed at us for knowing so little, mate.

  Discussed the subject of writing the wills. You know you’re getting old when that conversation happens. xx

  Tuesday 27th November 2014

  Mutley vets 10am.

  Week 679 of cooker from hell: engineer surfaced this morning with the good news that the new white hob is perfectly straight, goes to fit it and it’s broken. Tells me he could replace the part without the guarantee that it would be safe. Mate, last time I listened to him I lost the floor. I aint prepared to blow the back off my house. Threw him out, telling him I’m going back to the store and will be speaking to the manager.

  Wednesday 28th November 2014

  Couldn’t wait until Saturday. Cooker saga over, full refund and a handful of vouchers ‒ after they had the audacity to call me a liar, so I told them to poke the cooker up his arse at the same time loudly enlightening all the potential buyers browsing the store as to how shit the products and the service are. Went straight to another store, paid for a new cooker which should be delivered and fitted tomorrow.

  Having pushed baldy patch to the back of my mind I thought I’d have a peek and to my amazement it has gone. I confess I did cry.

  Thursday 29th November 2014

  Unbelievable! Chris has got frostbite! WTF. God only knows how. Stunned the doctor. She might lose her toes; wouldn’t mind a look at that, lol. Disappointedly doubt anything that extreme will occur. I’m in shock she has it, more in shock that the doctor has found something actually wrong with her!

  Had the new cooker installed today. How sad to be this excited over an appliance? Still, at least now I can cook without fear of saucepans sliding off and killing the cat.

  Saturday 1st December 2014

  Poker night.

  Xmas shopping with Julie.

  Bloody hell it’s only the 1st and already the shops are filled with the maniac shoppers. I swear Christmas gets here faster every year, and the worst thing is the kids being grown up, when they were little I could spend £500 and they’d have 30 gifts to open now, it’s spend £500 and have three measly boxes under the tree. Julie’s right: I do worry too much what others are gonna think of me; shallow and superficial, yes. Yes, I’ve bought many a gift purely for the reason that I’ll be judged, paid extreme prices for designer goods not because I wanted to; no, it’s because they’ll talk about me behind my back. Vented off at Julie, telling her how I’m gonna man up and not do it anymore. She agreed with me that it was shallow and I shouldn’t do it, but added that I’m not to include her in this as she likes me buying her expensive gifts. So glad we’re spending Christmas at Chloe’s; at least this year I won’t be the only mug whose cooking for everyone as I can’t recall the last time, or indeed ever, that Chris did it.

  Sunday 2nd December 2014

  Up bright and early and it’s snowing like a madman outside. I’ve just texted Julie to get her arse in gear as I’m not resisting the call of the sled. Let’s just hope I don’t end up in A&E with a blown eardrum again. Must call the others and advise them, just in case I do, that chocolate will suffice, no grapes and definitely no Ribena. The first person that does will be joining me in ICU, bastards. If I’m honest I did question whether I should, but Joe threw down the gauntlet with, ‘I know you’re having a MLC, you should give thought to your safety, you’re not getting any younger.’ Game on, mate.

  Monday 3rd December 2014

  Joe football.

  Shopping.

  After suffering the crowded supermarket, called Julie to go for a drink. When we got there, propping up the bar were a couple of transvestites, obvious to all but them. Bad wigs, worse make up, forearms like Popeye. Not sure what they were expecting the barman to say when one delusional, mistaking exceptional customer service for flirting, announced, ‘I’m flattered, but believe it or not I’m actually a man. ‘To which the barman laughed and said, ‘No shit, Sherlock. ‘Can’t repeat what Delores shouted but it weren’t very ladylike, lol.

  Tuesday 4th December 2014

  I think the kindest thing to do for Chris is to put her down, bless her. Mum bought her some tablets for relieving blocked sinuses. An hour after taking them she’s blown her hooter and has a tissue full of bright yellow liquid. Being Chris she has on some occasion read that the brain is floating in yellow fluid. Took Mum two hours to convince her she wasn’t going to die. Clearly wouldn’t have been from her head: she aint got no brain to float in it.

  Joe came home angrily telling me to expect a letter in the post as he’s been caught for curb crawling. He was ranting how it’s ‘extreme policing’, as my jaw hung there in disbelief. He was seconds away from a punch when he said if they’d nicked the guy who had left his van parked illegally, he wouldn’t have had to drive on the pavement to get past.

  Average day in this family.

  Wednesday 5th December 2014

  Watched a documentary last night on step kids and I gotta say I wouldn’t marry a man who had kids from a previous relationship, wouldn’t have touched him with a barge pole. Mate, the grief some of these stepparents get is not my bag; ex bitchy partner in the background, no thanks.

  Not all are bad, many are amicable, but the ones that are hell: why did they get divorced? They hated each other? Made each other’s skin crawl? Bored the shit out of you, bullied you, made you feel like crap, held you back in life? Whatever the reason, it usually ends up a battlefield with endless shouting and fighting that pushes for the Decree Absolute. Whether the reason is large or small it’s good enough to separate. So why do so many divorced couples keep up the fight long after the divorce? Might as well have stayed unhappily married, saved your money. What is the point? You wanted out, so stay out, but no, you will bitch and create hell at every opportunity, dragging yourself, the family and, most alarmingly, the kids through more crap. Anyone who’s been through a divorce knows how hard it can be; the wounds stay open for quite a while. But seriously, I know couples who still don’t behave civilly after ten years apart. All the technical stuff gets sorted by the courts ‒ money, possessions, property and access to the children ‒ so there’s no excuse.

  Thursday 6th December 2014

  Elizabeth has arrived at her sister’s and Chloe has gone to her mum’s. Looking forward to Friday’s girls’ night here.

  I’m in favour of technology but I do think it has spoilt so much for kids:MP3s, mobile phones, computers… great fun, but encourages loneliness. Gone are the days of standing in line for the latest hit record released by your favourite heartthrob. Once purchased you’d be rushing home, knocking on friends’ doors on the way. By the time I’d get back to mine there would be a dozen of us tearing up the stairs, piling onto the bed. They would wait with bated breath as I would open the record player and carefully place the needle onto the record. A silence would be maintained for the first playing, then a group discussion would prevail consisting mainly of ‘Oh, oooh, he’s the greatest, how cool’, and the ‘I’m gonna marry him!’ Within an hour every person present would not only know the lyrics by heart, but we’d have a dance routine to accompany it. The debates for and against said artist would continue all day.

  Socially it did wonders for us kids: there were no hostilities when we piled outside in the street where we would teach anyone the routine, which seemed so much more
impressive when there was 30 of us synchronized, much to the oldies dismay. OK, talking about pop stars or fashion wasn’t rocket science but it got us communicating, gave us something in common, a reason to be nice to each other. Whereas today’s music gadgets may hold more tunes than we ever owned, but where’s the fun and interaction?

  Mmm, Donny Osmond… would have back then, and would definitely now.

  Saturday 8th December 2014

  Been out burning up Joe’s credit card. The three of us had decided to go up west and make the most of the time. Chloe and Elizabeth have headed off so I’m going to cook me and Joe a nice meal and crack open a nice bottle of wine (shocker).Having spent the last 48 hours in the company of females it made me stop and think how shitty I can be to Joe. Poor bloke deserves better.

  Sunday 9th December 2014

  I’d texted Joe telling him dinner would be ready by seven. He strolls in ‒oh, I’m sorry, crawls through the door at nine, still holding the half-eaten kebab, attempting to apologise for being late. Has five attempts at telling me he loves me. I was in a forgiving mood, all was good, then he declares that he never knew what happiness was until he married me, but by then it was too late. How he feels the years we’ve spent together has been an adventure, a bit like going off to war, a war where in fact you sleep with the enemy. Then it seemed he was on a roll, with no stone unturned it ended with him saying marriage is about being committed. So does being fucking mental, mate.