by Amanda Egan
So I thought I’d get my thoughts on the day down on paper.
The fair was a resounding success - our team was on fire and so brilliantly co-ordinated we were a joy to behold.
Mrs S sat patiently on the raffle ticket stall for the whole day (we kept her going with top-ups of mulled wine). She built up quite a banter with the parents and managed to make them part with ridiculous amounts of money. Looks like the raffle alone may have made about three and a half grand and we couldn’t have done it without her.
The funny thing was, she won the year’s supply of Cristal champagne and asked, quite loudly, if she could change it for Babycham! This, of course, caused huge amusement amongst the crowds with several eager dads offering to do a swap with her.
Fenella pushed to the front of the crowd saying, “No, no Mrs Sengupta is more than happy with her win and it is not open to negotiation.” She then whispered to Mrs S, “I’ll buy you two years of Babycham and that’s my final offer.” Mrs S clapped her hands together in delight and said, “I am very much saying yes. You’ve always been one of my favourites. Mad as a bag of poppadoms but you have a kind soul.”
I then overheard Barbie say to Patience, “Your mother’s quite a character isn’t she?” as she gestured to Mrs S.
Patience looked at her and frowned. “You think she’s my mother? Oh Holy cow, you haven’t got a fucking clue have you? We’re not white so we must be related. You ignorant piece of over-tanned shit!” And with that she turned on her heels and went in to the school gardens.
I’ve never seen Patience lose her temper before, she’s always so cool and calm, but I really can’t say I blame her. Found her right at the very end of the playground behind the bike sheds, furiously puffing away on a fag like a naughty schoolgirl.
Joined her and lit up feeling very guilty smoking on school premises. I could see that she’d wiped a few tears away and I put my arm around her. “They’re doing to you exactly what they did to me last year. They can’t stand to think that we’re not all like them. They want to make us feel like we don’t belong.”
“That’s just it Lib. I don’t want to belong any more. They’ve all completely snubbed me from the start. Nobody even bothered to look at my artwork today because, to them, I’m a nobody. Why would I want to be one of them? I can think of nothing worse.”
Told her that was the spirit and, anyway, we’ve always got the Anti-Meemies.
She laughed and said, “And when they all find out that I’m not some penniless leso, and they’re all trying to be my new best friend, I’m gonna tell them to stick it where their colonic tubes go so regularly!”
I think she may have hit her point of tolerance far sooner than I did.
And I can’t wait until the shit hits the fan and the truth comes out.
Ooh, just realised that sounded like a dodgy colonic and it wasn’t intended!
Sunday 23rd November
We were woken ridiculously early with a text from Fenella.
NOT PUKING TODAY - FEELING GOOD. LUNCH HERE WITH OTHER XMAS FAIR GRAFTERS? WILL TEXT PATIENCE ETC IF U R FREE xxx
Decided it was a great idea as Ned and I were too knackered to think of cooking and, the way things have been between us lately, we could do with the distraction and the company.
PM
Had a great day with our motley crew; including Mrs S, Skunk, Silver, Olga and her new girlfriend, Zsa-Zsa.
As usual F&J had laid on a banquet with effortless ease and we put a sizeable hole in her year’s supply of Cristal. Mrs S declined and sat happily with her Babycham, which Fenella adorned with a sparkly cocktail umbrella and a dangly plastic monkey.
Olga and Zsa-Zsa seem to be really happy together but they are both desperately trying to find new jobs.
“Lydia-Boss-Lady is doing my ‘ead in and Zsa-Zsa vorks for other stupid bitch-cow. Ve is treated like a shite and we both had it up to eyeballs. Ve vood be more happy to be a vaitress but no home to live in - it’s all poop.”
We sympathised with them, knowing it must be hell on earth to have to work for and live with a Meemie, and Fenella topped them both up with bubbly and began, “Remember girls …”
“Ja, ja … everysink is better vis de bubbles” they said in unison as they downed their drinks and held their glasses out for more.
Fenella’s mum turned up at about five and we all gathered around the piano for an impromptu singalong. Mrs S and I did a great rendition of a Bazza medley and Fenella did a sultry version of ‘I Wanna Be Loved by You.” We all ended with ‘Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner’ and Mrs S insisted on playing the spoons.
Josh was the perfect host, topping up glasses and keeping the drinks flowing. He also kept checking on the kids and the dogs to see that they had all they needed.
He returned at one point and said “How many kids and dogs do you think you can squeeze into one small tent in a bedroom?”
We all laughed, but Mrs S sat looking thoughtful.
She finally answered, “I am very much thinking the answer must be four children and four dogs. But I am wondering if there is room for a sleepy little old Indian lady.”
And she stood, a little shakily, and headed for the door.
We all burst into fits of drunken giggles, but I noticed Ned didn’t.
He just sat there looking thoughtful and as if he had the troubles of the world resting on his weary shoulders.
Monday 24th November
Called Lou to ask for marriage guidance.
“Och Lib, it’ll be the stress of the new job. Yeh had betta watch it or he’ll be heading for a heart attack. Dodgy age, the forties!”
Decided I didn’t like that advice so I called Nic for a second opinion.
“Libster, Libster, Libster. Have you shagged him since ‘you-know-what?’ Cos if you haven’t, my love, that will most definitely be why Neddy-Boy’s got the hump. Trust me, I’m a man. I know these things.”
Didn’t like his advice much either but figured it was probably the more logical of reasons.
I really must do something about it but both mind and body aren’t willing at the moment.
Settled down to write a list of to-do’s - always a good way to cheer myself up and clear the old brain.
TO DO
Prepare notes and final Christmas fair figures for last CCL meeting of the year next week. Plan ‘unfussy, casual but flattering’ outfit. (that’s for my benefit, no one else’s.)
Start to buy Christmas presents and stocking fillers - teachers presents also. What to get for Dan? Think of surprise for Ned. (Oops, that should have been other way around!)
Organise a Christmas drinks party here for family and close friends - it’s the first time we’ve been able to afford to splash out so I think we should. Wonder if I should invite Dan in thanks for his help? - consult Fenella (actually, scrub that, got big mouth!)
Treat myself to some new clothes for the festive season - again, I’ve never been able to do it before so maybe I should have a pre-Christmas splurge. Might go for new, might stick with Oxfam.
Buy underwear - new, of course. Hopefully get me feeling like a sexy woman again and inject a bit of much needed spark into our comatose love-life.
Fully accept that I lost a baby and I won’t be having another one - looks so easy when I see it written down on paper but I just can’t seem to get my brain to grasp it. Part of me has gone missing and yet it’s always there in the back of my mind. How can something be gone but also still be there?
Have sex - again, so easy on paper.
PM
Tried to broach the subject of our relationship with Ned tonight and asked him why he thinks we’re not really connecting at the moment.
He sipped at his drink thoughtfully and looked out of the window. “I don’t know Lib, I guess I started off by trying to give you time and space and now I just feel like I’m being pushed away.”
Went over to him and kissed him and I tried to make it turn into more, I really did. But I felt nothing. An
d I knew he could sense it.
Ned turned and left the room and I was left feeling even worse than ever.
Tuesday 25th November
Max came home from school and decided to write his letter to Father Christmas. So simple when you’re young, you put all your wants on a list and more often than not old Santa shoves them down the chimney.
If only adulthood was like that!
Dear Father Christmas
Please help me to love my husband again. He’s my best friend and I feel like I don’t deserve him at the moment.
Please make sure no one takes him away from me.
Please make me normal again.
Thank you
Mummy Misfit.
Wednesday 26th November
Fenella stopped me at school this morning and asked me why I had such a long face. “Come on misery-guts, let’s go for a spot of knicker shopping. Buy some bras that make us look like we’ve had boob jobs. Heaven help me, I need one with these puppies.” And she shoved her chest out. “Can you imagine what they’d be like if I intended to breast feed?” She stopped and did a nervous little cough. “Oh God, Lib, I’m sorry. I know why you’re miz, of course I do. I just don’t think. You know what I’m like, dopey trollop!”
Told her not to be daft and agreed that cup-sizes and gussets may well take my mind off things.
PM
Well that’s the last time I go to ‘Rigby and Peller’ - lunacy, absolute lunacy.
Aside from the fact that I refuse to spend eighty pounds on a bra, regardless of now having the means, the place was heaving with Manor Housers and some other equally obnoxious mothers maxing out the credit cards on daft bits of lace and frills.
This was a whole new world to me. I don’t want a sales assistant honing in on me with her eyes to determine I’m a 38D - it’s just spooky. It’s like some kind of ‘tit-radar’. Take me to M&S to a pleasantly rounded lady with a tape measure around her neck and do it the old fashioned way, please.
I told Fenella I wouldn’t be buying anything but that I was quite happy to wait while she did.
“Oh come on, Sweedie. Treat yourself, just once!”
“Fenella, I can buy perfectly good bras in ASDA or M&S. There are children starving in the world and charities desperate to find a cure for breast cancer. I’d rather have a ten quid bra and do some good with the rest of my money. It just doesn’t sit well with me. Sorry!”
Felt a bit mean for putting the kibosh on our day out but watching these silly women was actually making me feel sick.
Fenella flushed a little and then said “Oh! Well I guess I’ve never really looked at it like that. You’re quite right, of course.” She stopped and looked around looking ever so slightly deflated. “Can I just buy one little itsy-bitsy G-string? It doesn’t cost very much and it’s a shame to come all this way and not buy anything. Can I?”
Told her I had no intention of stopping her from buying anything. It was entirely up to her how she spent her money. Also reminded her that she was six months pregnant and it wasn’t the most practical of buys.
“Yes I’m well aware of that, Sweedie. It’s for when I get back in the saddle afterwards. You know … for fun … remember that?”
Wanted to punch her, but I’ve never hit anyone in my life - least of all a pregnant woman.
Thankfully I was distracted by the sight of Barbie who was just admiring her post-boob job in the most ridiculous balcony bra. She looked like a blow-up doll but more plastic.
And the classic Fenella line we left the shop with?
“Oh, I see you decided not to go ahead with surgery then? I’d get something a bit more structured for that droop though, if I were you.”
Well that’s probably us banned from ‘Rigby & Peller’ then.
Thursday 27th November
Ned didn’t get home until way after I was in bed last night - so I lay in the dark, assuming the worst. In fact, I ended up doing a bit of a Lou and decided he was either dead or having an affair.
And serves me right really. Can’t ask for any sympathy, can I?
But then I got up this morning and saw that, although he’d left without saying goodbye, there was a small box on the breakfast bar.
Inside was the most beautiful pair of drop diamond earrings - tiny but perfect. He’d also left a card which said. ‘I love you my Lib and I’m a patient man. We’re in this for life and I know we’ll get back on track. Xxx’
Oh, I really don’t deserve him! Why am I such an idiot?
PM
I was so chuffed with my first piece of ‘real’ jewellery, I decided to wear them for school pick-up. Fenella and Patience were admiring them, and saying how lucky I was to have such a romantic husband, when Gestapo decided to muscle in on the conversation.
“Oooh, Libby, those sparklers aren’t from the new Tiffany range are they?” She looked closer. “No, I doubt it. They’ve got more of a Samuel’s look about them.”
I opened and closed my mouth like a stupid thing, unable to come back with any kind of put-down.
Fenella was in like a shot. “And what was the last gift Pritesh showered you with? A tumble dryer? Must be tough for you dating an honest grafter instead of your dodgy dealing hubbie - white goods don’t exactly have the same kudos as hedge funds though, do they?”
Patience giggled and tried to cover it up - badly.
Gestapo looked as if she was about to explode and rounded on her. “And what would you know? I may currently be having my school fees sponsored by some revolting little ‘do-goody charity’ but nobody knows how you pay yours. What’s your secret?”
Before Patience had a chance to reply, Gestapo had been taken aside by Hinge, with Bracket in her wake, and asked to accompany them to the school office.
Who’d have thought my lovely earrings could cause so much controversy?
Friday 28th November
Jenny called before we left for school as she wanted to fill me in before anyone else arrived in the office.
“They’ll kill me if they find out I’m telling you, Lib, but Gestapo’s been given a verbal warning. If she’s rude to a parent again or disses CCL, she’s out. Hinge & Bracket said it was terribly sad for her kids but they couldn’t condone her increasingly obnoxious behaviour.”
Ha! Serves Gestapo bloody right. It’s about time she got her come-uppance.
Arranged emergency coffee and Irn Bru for my Anti-Meemies and swore them to secrecy before I spilled the beans.
“OMG! That’s just so fab, it’s made my day,” Fenella chuckled, stuffing an almond croissant in her mouth. (She really is looking quite large these days!)
Patience played with the crumbs on her plate and said, “You know, I was so close to telling her how I actually afford the school fees but I was saved by Hinge & Bracket.”
“All credit to old H&B. They won’t stand for any nonsense, will they? They’re what makes the school such a decent place,” Fenella added.
“The whole thing got me thinking though,” Patience continued. “Why should I ever need to tell them who or what I am? It’s none of their business and bragging about it makes me as bad as them. I’m just me.”
Had to say I agreed but Fenella was having none of it. “Are you kidding? Of course, you’re just you but think of the fun we’ll have when the story comes out. Come on Patience, don’t deny a poor pregnant woman a bit of revenge! I just can’t wait to see the looks on their faces.”
We clinked our coffee cups and tin can together and agreed we’d wait for the perfect moment.
PM
Off to Nic and Rick’s later this evening and Max is having his first sleepover with Todd. He’s taking Dog and Dot with him so that they can have a doggy-sleepover with Splodge and Brown as well.
As Max excitedly packed a bag for the dogs I realised that, once we got back from our dinner, Ned and I would be alone for the night for the first time in six years - aside from when Max was in hospital recently and then there was no thought of romance.
Oh shit!
Saturday 29th November
Bit of an odd night, last night.
Nic and Rick are totally stressed out. Baby Mikhail never sleeps and seems to cry an awful lot. Nothing placates him - food, clean bum, rocking, winding, singing - nothing.
I’ve never seen the usually immaculate pair look so scruffy. They were both in slobby trackies, baggy T-shirts splattered in dribble and milk and they looked like they could do with a weekend in bed.
“Sorry guys,” Nic said when he let us in. “We couldn’t be arsed to cook tonight. We’ve ordered a Thai takeaway. Hope that’s OK.”
