Despite the large creaking 'sold' sign outside the front of our house, there are still a steady stream of women of a certain age, peering in with house hunting, weekend, zealous, menace. Cars at crawling speed, knuckles whitened due to over gripping their steering wheels, with clearly some extreme in car husband and wife hen peckery taking place. Once the paperwork is signed on this one and our new one. I may revert to type do something other than grimace and snap the curtains shut.
If I had not just consumed the best gluten free chocolate brownie, (sticky and just right for me), my current hormonal status might have rendered me less polite. I only have one treat a week, and this was probably enough for two weeks. I can justify it by saying I did not have any Easter Eggs given to me, apart from the sizable chunks cajoled from the children during a particularly bad huff, after I had churned out my best Nanny banquets three times a day for five days.
Today I took the two youngest out for a much over due lunch, we had a bad week illness wise all in bed at times with them achieving vast amounts of school work to be emailed off. I meanwhile got on with various house moving projects and stuff online, including plenty of dreadful procrastination, such as how can I persuade people to come and re-upholster all my sofas and chairs in nice strong denim, without it costing more than the furniture itself. Fantasies of it all wearing on the arms and cushions like jeans kept me busy for hours and prevented anything taking place for two whole evenings, especially when I got as far as the piping on the cushions. Please nobody suggest I do it, I fly into a rage with sewing due to too much attention from nuns in that department when at school years ago.
Thinking about the house move and how much shite and junk there is to move is fine until I dare think about the loft. I open it or make him open the loft hatches one a year to rescue the Christmas decorations, and then they are slammed shut again.
I also think I may have hidden some dreadful things he likes to wear up there which he will rediscover and alarm the local town with. I would like to blend in when we first arrive, before it is established that we are prone to musical outbursts and have rather a lot of guests to stay.
My daughter is 17 and has already read me the riot act about possibly letting go of her Teletubbie House or any of the toys she had as a toddler, which led on to conversations about hilarious things they used to say. My youngest son's endless questions when very small were 'Mummy am I a very old baby?' and a night time phrase of 'there are lamps up there, indicating the moon in the sky. I do wish I had written down all their funny phrases but just did not think about it at the time. My friend and local partner in crime who has also recently escaped the village of the dammed was told off by her youngest yesterday, when discussing capital cities, for another child's geography homework, she was told, "don't be silly mummy the capital of Francis is not Paris it is 'F' - a capital F for France!"
He as in my husband, meanwhile is off earning us money - many week-ends away, but phoning regularly to see how we are doing and report awful things he has done. Apart from the treble booked clients piling up for him, while he sat oblivious in another part of the building. Blissfully mending a battered accordion resulting in wild Eastern European tango tunes, their volume and ferocity eclipsing telephones and door buzzer intercoms. There was the matter of his recent DIY. To save one work premises some money he offered to fit the self door closers on all the internal doors. Armed with an ancient tool box full of some most suspect items, this job was duly done. However a number of his work colleagues became stressed and deeply inconvenienced by being caught violently and suddenly by heavy doors that snapped shut about their persons like giant crocodile jaws with no warning whatsoever. He had several messages on all our telephones, dismayed voices describing being caught in giant jaws.
Meanwhile I was so alarmed by my appearance in the bedroom mirror this morning that I managed to avoid the PMT snack conveyor belt and felt I should start on some facial exercises, having seen a book that my friend Dithers is doing. I am put off it already, I am sure all the shouting and scowling and laughing I do is exercising it enough. Also there was a woman I knew in London who resided in the same square year's ago, who did them endlessly. I have to reluctantly admit she did indeed look much younger than her years, but the endless grinning exercises and neck stretches meant that she as left with a permanent half smile on her face even when furious which I found most unnerving and irritating, to have somebody always half smiling at me inanely was most irritating.
Any minute amounts of village nostalgia left as we prepare to move onto the edge of a town for a better life, were rapidly swept away earlier in the week. I encountered a small time snob, an uptight specimen of a village worthy, who behaved like a venomous spitting cobra in her role as yapping guard dog for the local recreational facilities. Her misplaced, profound lack of community spirit displayed in all it's parochial glory would have me in the dead of night preparing a spoof blue plaque for her house for later years, engraved in gold with the following script
A small minded individual lived here, pontificating her snobbery up and down the street to whoever came her way, but she did never win the mother's race at school sports day despite practicing for months on end.
Actually 15 years ago a rather good friend of mine in the village prone to hilarious naughtiness had watched this particular woman running around the place in special go faster sports gear, and when it came to the race in question, stubbed her fag out and then overtook her at some speed with enough breath at the end to let out a long cackling laugh which went down very well with most of the parents who were there at the time.
I should be doing lots of work now, but have become fixated with a great tv cartoon from a while back, I only wanted to watch one part but now of course can't stop. I had forgotten how good they are and now have to download them all to help me with packing the house up.
Mary F x
ps PLEASE do not just sign this petition.. share it EVERYWHERE if we all do this, we could seriously have some action in parliament.....people power is all that it takes... end of lecture: