by Amanda Egan
Monday 27th October
Max has already been back at school a week but I’ve been so flat out trying to catch up with everything, haven’t had a minute to write.
Half term flew by - several trips to the park, a visit to the cinema and another catch up with Ruth and Beckie, sans NM, so I could fill them in properly on Manor House life.
Fenella and I are now spending so much time together we might just as well be living in the same house. The fair is taking up every spare minute as preparations kick in to high gear. Would we do it again? Definitely not - but it’s been a real learning curve.
Today’s agenda:
Check food progress with nannies.
Feel guilty but they know I’m on their side and not one of the ‘evil ones’! Boy have I learnt some new expletives from those girls - I can now swear in several languages.
Call Nic and Rick to see how many models they’ve made.
At last count they were at the 100 mark and loving every minute - really getting into the creative flow and adding embellishments like freckles, hockey sticks and book bags. They’ve even made an exact replica of Max - have put it on reserve. The joy of being in with the right people. Extra bonus - I don’t have to pay ha, ha, ha!
Format recipe book submissions for consistency and Google more images.
Could be a long job - we eventually shook them out of their apathy and now have 250 recipes ranging from ‘Nut-Free Nut Loaf’ (Hello?) to ‘Sugarless Pavlovas’ (Blurck!)
STOP SMOKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday 28th October
Manor House Quiz night.
Really don’t want to go tonight but F&J begged us for moral support - God they’re as insecure as me.
The theme is ‘dinner-party-picnic’ - with each table of 8 providing their own full sit down meal, Rumour has it that some of the veteran mothers have been upping the stakes for years and now have out and out wars to compete for the best table - going totally OTT with candelabra, floral arrangements and food delivered in from the best restaurants in town.
The tickets cost us thirty quid and we’ll be provided with a bottle of wine and ‘the thrill of the competition!’ Oh and, joy of joys, we’ve been lumbered with Gestapo and husband and the Gnome and Letchy as our other team members - could have thought of many better ways to spend our money.
Like a deposit on some root canal treatment or a Brazilian, maybe?
Wednesday 29th October
We won!
And no thanks to the other ‘know-it-alls’ on our table. Oh, they think they know everything and will argue their point vehemently but, at the end of the day, they’re just a load of hot air.
The start of the evening was totally surreal - huge platters of food and dinner party paraphernalia was carried into the school hall and mothers got down to the serious business of setting their tables. Most dads stood around throwing wine down their throats and discussing the state of the markets, whilst sneaking glances at bosoms and bottoms of varying sizes.
The Gnome had taken it on herself to organise our table. She has a child in Year 5, so obviously needed to make her mark in the presentation stakes. She’d gone for the ‘kitch Indian restaurant look’ with lots of satin and flock. We had huge ornate candles, glittering tea lights and a massive centre-piece orchid - all overstated and vaguely ostentatious. Our table was crammed to overflowing with decorative crap.
Despite having no room for the actual food, she stood, flushed with pleasure, as we stored our banquet under the table around our feet.
Under her strict instructions, we’d been told what to bring as our contribution to the dinner - don’t quite know how Gestapo managed to get away with bringing a frozen Waitrose pudding and some rank cheese - but aside from that the food was delicious.
The evening was run by a professional quiz company - probably just as well because they managed to keep a tight rein on the proceedings and kept the rowdy bunch under control. Lots of parents thought they could try it on and ask for extra time on rounds, or clues to answers, but had no joy. Think I even saw one father sneakily offering a fifty quid note to the quiz-master, which he refused. God, these people really do think that money can buy them anything! I guess they don’t take failure easily and, even though it’s only a fun school quiz, ‘victory must be theirs’.
Had great fun with the Chocolate Tasting round. Gestapo declined because of the damage the sugar would do to her body (manages to knock back the Champagne though) and the Gnome refused anything that looked like it might be Cadbury’s or Nestlé - only Lindt or Green & Blacks for her. Fenella and I tucked in and correctly identified all ten brands. Felt very pleased with ourselves, if a little sick.
Gestapo and the Gnome declared the Fine Art round “clearly made for us.” Both claimed to have art degrees and to have visited every gallery of “any merit.” We left them to it, as the paintings were so obscure we didn’t have a clue. Letchy Dad was too pissed to care and was quite happy ‘tit-watching’ and Gestapo Dad spent the whole time on his iPhone or Blackberry - obviously far too busy to actually take part. So rude!
After much deliberation and throwing around names of unheard-of artists, our ‘art experts’ proudly handed in their answer sheet.
They managed to get two out of ten correct! Most people would have accepted their defeat quietly, but they then spent the next fifteen minutes arguing with the adjudicator and accusing the quiz company of not doing their research properly.
During that time, Fenella, Josh, Ned and I managed to get every single question right on the Music and Film round - Letchy even managed to pipe up with a slurred, “Oooh, yes that’s Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct. Fine piece of totty!”
Any extra wine could be bought from a makeshift bar in the corner and I noticed Gestapo and the Gnome taking bottles from a cool bag under our table instead of buying them.
Wasn’t until I went up to buy another bottle that I saw the sign stating all profits from the wine were going to CCL - the pettiness of those bitches.
Later on in the evening, as another CCL fundraiser, we were invited to write our names on twenty pound notes and place them in a hat that was being passed around. The person drawn would win a huge Fortnum’s hamper. Needless to say we could barely afford such a luxury but dug deep.
Gestapo and the Gnome refused with such a look of disdain I could have sworn someone had let off a stink bomb. Letchy chucked a handful of notes in, forgetting to put his name on them and then received a massive bollocking from the Gnome, who totally embarrassed herself by asking for the money back! Gestapo Dad was too busy screaming abuse down his iPhone to know what the hell was going on.
What a night - anyway we won by a clear margin of ten points. Don’t think it’s the done thing at your first quiz night but we couldn’t give a stuff - the best team won, despite four partial non-participants and we hadn’t resorted to bribery.
Note to self - next year, find out who’s putting the teams together, and lie, cheat (or bribe!) to ensure more pleasant company.
Thursday 30th October AM
Have just remembered it’s Mum’s birthday tomorrow - yes, on Halloween! Enough said.
Posted her a card and an M&S voucher - nothing I buy her is ever good enough so she might as well choose her own present and she’ll still find something to moan about.
F&J have decided on an impromptu Halloween party for the kids tomorrow night but, of course, we all have to dress up as well - nothing is done by halves.
Managed to hotchpotch together a black cat outfit for Max, a sexy witch for me and a Dracula for Ned. Getting to be quite the expert.
Also made some MG’s ‘Perfect Pussies’ and ‘Wicked Witches’ - toxic looking cakes with noxious coloured icing.
Am about to search the web for an evil punch to take with us.
PM
Nipped in to Mrs S to wish her happy Diwali. Lit candles and held a couple of lighters aloft to sing “Can’t Smile Without You” while we drank Babycham - yuck.. Certai
nly a different take on the traditional Diwali celebration but Mrs S loved it and that’s what counts.
Ned and I then got rather too involved with the ‘Boggy Brew’ I mixed up - yum.
Depending on what type of hangover it delivers, I’ll make another batch to take tomorrow.
Just off to have the last couple of glasses - very more-ish!
Friday 31st October
Halloween
The witch’s coven was in full swing at the school gates this morning - must be something in the air. Heard Gestapo complaining bitterly about the CCL fundraising at the quiz night. “Blatant exploitation!” She said, looking to the Gnome for back up. “Oh yes, they really used every trick in the book to make us feel pity for the ‘deprived children’. But we didn’t give in, did we? Bloody good idea to take our own wine, as well.”
A couple of other mothers added their own vile comments and then ‘Dress-Up-Mummy’ came on the scene, weirdly turned out as usual (think gothic meets boho), and therefore totally in keeping with the theme of the day. She appeared to have a juicy piece of gossip because they all huddled together like scheming school girls, about to tear their next victim apart.
Hurried home before I became contaminated and mixed up another brew for tonight.
‘Hubble, bubble, toil and trouble …’ and all that!
Saturday 1st November
Look more like a witch this morning than I did last night. Jeez, how does every night with F&J do that to me? Pale, blotchy skin, manic hair and skunk-breath. Ned was no better and we just about managed to grunt at one another to communicate that we’d take Max swimming for the morning.
We most certainly went way past the witching hour last night - we wore the kids and the dogs out with scary games and manic chases. We apple bobbed, pinned the nose on the witch and played wink-murder. By the time the children sat down to ‘Dead Men’s Fingers’, ‘Puss Balls’ and ‘Manky Maggots’ (sausages, peas and savoury rice) - they were just about walking corpses themselves. The dogs tucked into ‘Mangled Witches Cat’ (Chum) and we settled three kids and four dogs down on duvets to watch ‘Meg and Mog’ - the only DVD we could think of with a vague Halloween theme without being scary viewing.
We adults then sat down to a fondue and told the scariest stories we could think of. Fenella’s being the time she hit the top of her credit card limit.
Josh then quipped, “That’s not half as frightening as when I had to pay it off!”
Amused ourselves by pretending that each piece of meat we cooked was a juicy morsel of flesh from any Manor Housers we despised.
As usual, it spiralled into the ridiculously immature with fondue forks in chunks of beef becoming ‘steaks’ through hearts and pieces of chicken being dunked into the scalding hot fat ‘murder most fowl’. Every now and again one of us would burst into a primeval cry of “Take that you bastards!” or an ogre-ish “Mmmm tasty piece of Gnome buttock!”
Who says Halloween is just for kids?
Sunday 2nd November
Went to Mum’s for a birthday lunch.
Met Elle’s partner, Rob. Both Ned and I took to him immediately as he has just the right touch with Mum - respectful but with a hint of tongue-in-cheek. Think Ned is grateful to have some male company in the family - if only for moral support when it comes to declining second helpings of Mum’s culinary offerings.
Elle was looking very well. Pregnancy seems to have softened her edges, which, in contrast, makes Harriet look even more hard-nosed. She spent most of the day barking orders down her iPhone or furiously tapping emails on the laptop - good company for Gestapo Dad.
Of course if I’d dared to go to Mum’s and act like that I’d never hear the end of it but all we heard from her was, “My Harriet, such a clever girl. Doesn’t she work hard, Rob?”
Oh yes and being a full time mum and prep school misfit means I sit around on my lardy arse all day watching daytime television, doesn’t it?
To top it all my M&S voucher had caused her huge problems because there was “simply nothing suitable in store.”
The House of Fraser Voucher from Harriet was “just perfect” and “spent within a flash.” The gardening centre gift certificate from Elle, “so useful and thoughtful.”
Grrr - I give up. Perhaps Ned’s right and I was a waif who my mother adopted to make her look like a charitable and loving woman.
Having an early night as Mum’s Yorkshire pudding is still sitting like a stone in my stomach and I can’t be arsed to listen to Ned groaning about his wind and bowel discomfort.
Monday 3rd November
Ned’s driving me mad. Morning, noon and night we have to listen to him practising his Father Christmas lines.
“My you’ve grown since I last saw you.”
“Mummy tells me you been a very good boy this year.”
“A little birdie tells me you might like a new bike.”
Had to explain to Max that some of the daddies would be pretending to be Father Christmas and that he wasn’t to tell the other children. We also said we’d take him to see the ‘real’ one at his special grotto, closer to Christmas. Hope we were convincing but suspect kids agree to the concept just to humour their parents and guarantee the presents they want.
Fed up with having to tell Ned if his tone is friendly enough or his “ho-ho-ho” too loud. He says it will all come together once he has the costume and he’d quite like to have a trial run at home.
“You know the beard and belly will make all the difference to the characterisation and I don’t want to leave it till the day, Lib. Could traumatise the kids for life.”
Agreed to bring one of the costumes home from the school cupboard, just to shut him up. Have a feeling it might only make matters worse though. “Is my beard full enough?” “Does my belly need another cushion?” “Does my bum look big enough in this?”
Guess I should be grateful he’s so enthusiastic but, if I hear another ho-bloody-ho, I swear I’ll strangle him with the elasticated beard.
Tackling the fair since June seems to have left me slightly lacking in the Christmas spirit just when I need it most but, frankly, if I never see another roll of wrapping paper or bauble again I’m likely to shove it up Santa’s chimney.
Off to tackle job #32 on my list of duties for today.
Tuesday 4th November
Email from Shaaaron:
‘Am assuming all is running smoothly with preparations and wanted to pass on the following -
A few mothers have mentioned that the queuing time to see Father Christmas last year was ridiculous. Please organise a pre-booking system, whereby each child can make an appointment in the week leading up to the fair - 5 minute slots only, and make sure that all FC’s adhere to this time frame. Suggest you send newsletter around and then sit outside school gates at pick-up to make bookings. £5 per child, siblings not allowed joint visits.
Looking forward to your next update.’
Had a coffee and a fag and waited for the phone to ring. I had no doubt that Fenella would be on the warpath soon - probably just having her own nicotine and caffeine fix before deciding on which expletives to bellow down the phone.
Wednesday 5th November
Guy Fawkes Night
Without making any reference to rubber hoses or noses, we politely and calmly told Shaaaron what we thought of their FC booking system. We laid the sentimental clap-trap on pretty thick with, “How can you deny the children the mystery of not knowing when they’ll get to see Father Christmas?” and Fenella’s classic, “A child mustn’t feel that Father Christmas can only spare five minutes of his time. Of course, we’ll try to stick to the time frame but … oh … the little ones must never know!” It was a theatrical triumph. Nobody would have guessed it was just because we didn’t want another bloody job to do - especially not one that involved a whole heap of organisation and sitting out in the cold every afternoon for a week.
Match point to us.
Provided them with a full running rota for the day
- who knows if people will actually be where they should be, when they should be but we’ve done our best. Fenella giggled to me that maybe we hadn’t emailed it to them in an attractive enough format and perhaps we should have prepared a PowerPoint presentation.
Spent the evening addressing raffle ticket envelopes at the kitchen table with Fenella. Ned and Josh did a small firework display in the garden so that the kids could watch it safely through our leaky conservatory. Dog and dogs slept in the front bedroom with a lavender scented candle and some juicy marrow bones soaked in Rescue Remedy - Fenella’s idea to distract them from the stress of the fireworks. We even put the TV on for them but I think they took one look at the bones and thought they’d gone to doggy heaven - they could even be counting the days until next fireworks night.