by Amanda Egan
And we’re counting the days to the fair - 9 to go! We’re on the home straight and soon our lives will become our own again.
Thursday 6th November
Have only just realised it’s Mia’s party extravaganza tomorrow. Black tie, my bum. If it wasn’t that Max was so keen on her, I’d make some kind of excuse.
Rifled through his cupboards and decided he can wear the waistcoat he wore to my birthday party with one of Ned’s bow-ties. Had a brief discussion with him over breakfast about his mask and he told me that Mia was wearing sequins, pearls and feathers but he’d be quite happy with just feathers.
Most of my morning was taken up with aborted attempts at mask making and phone calls to outside stallholders confirming their booking for Saturday week. Praise the Lord, all OK and ready to relieve the Manor House mummies of their husbands’ hard earned cash.
Ended up with a fairly credible mask that looked vaguely like a gay Zorro - not sure that Ned will approve but Max was delighted.
Can only please some of the people some of the time.
Friday 7th November AM
Gestapo was faffing around this morning, telling everyone how fantastic the party was going to be and how much work had been involved. “I’m simply exhausted but it will be so worth it!”
“Vot a stinky liar,” Olga sidled up to me. “Lazy bitch has left it all up to her nanny and zen I hev had to do loads of crap for it because Lydia-Boss-Lady tell me I hev too much spare time. Zey do nothing for zemselves - one day I expect one of zem to ask me to vipe zair bottie!”
Gestapo chattered gaily, on some kind of pre-party high, “Anyway gels, got to dash. Off to have my eyebrows threaded and an Indian head-massage to relieve the stress. See you at the golf club at 5 for the kiddies’ party of the century.”
“I know vot I vood like to do vis her head,” Olga seethed, “And it vood certainly relieve my bloody stress!”
PM
Max back from THE party and, in typical five-year old style, not a great deal to report.
The party was “OK,” the entertainer “same as usual,” the food “yucky” and the cocktails “fizzy.” Of course Mia looked “really pretty.”
Ned and I decided that the hype had obviously been “overboard” but the bill was probably “massive”.
Instead of party bags Gestapo had given each child a PS 3 game - great if the child has the console and a total disappointment if, like Max, they don’t.
Utterly thoughtless and typically assuming - could almost hear her saying, “Surely in this day and age, every child has the latest gadget?”
Ned said he’s going to flog the game on eBay and we’ll buy Max a treat tomorrow to make up for it.
Children’s entertainers must be raking it in, all because of these mothers’ lack of imagination - “Must do it properly. Has to look like I’ve thrown wads of money at it. Got to have big, expensive venue. Mustn’t forget to do the big ‘up-sell’ beforehand.”
Hmm … think Nic may have been right about ways for me to make money.
Put business idea together after fair and consider carefully.
Saturday 8th November
Fenella and I feel like a couple of expectant mothers. As with the length of pregnancy, the fair seems to have taken forever and now the final stretch seems the longest. The date looms ahead and we can’t wait for it to be over - we may even get through it without gas and air. Might hit the mulled wine stall a few times though.
Sunday 9th November
Email from Mrs S full of excitement because she’d bought twenty two Mills and Boon paperbacks for three pounds on eBay.
‘And very reasonable postage for such a heavy package, Libbybeta. So many wonderful heroes to discover and fall in love with. My marriage to Mahesh was not a happy one but my Mills and Boon men never let me down. I am thinking my Pritesh would make a good hero in one of these books. Would you agree with me, Libbybeta?’
Ned joked that if things get really tough he might consider selling me on to Pritesh. “I mean, I know you’re used goods and all that but he’s pretty keen so I’m sure he’d make a fair offer and just think how happy you’d make Mrs S.”
Told him to stick to the Father Christmas act and, under no circumstances, to consider stand up comedy.
Went to Fenella’s for lunchtime drinks and nibbles to await the delivery of our cookbooks - the volunteer dad could only spare a Sunday and Fenella had said she’d store them. All very exciting - to finally get to see the finished product and how it had all come together.
Fenella said it was only right that we should be together for the occasion and we could pretend it was a mini book launch. She’d even bought fancy little canapés and had Max, Todd and Charlotte pretend to be waiting staff - they thought this was great fun and, even though the dogs probably ended up with as much as us, they did a great job.
A couple of G & T’s down by the time they arrived and we eagerly opened one of the boxes. They really did look very professional and, I begrudgingly admit, worth the money we’d been told to charge. The tempting recipes far out-weighed the foul ones and our Googled pictures looked very convincing in all their glossy glory.
We had a huge girlie hug of relief - looks like we pulled it off. Tomorrow we start with the hard sell.
Ned and Josh toasted our continued success and said how proud they were of us - all got a bit lovey-dovey and corny.
A perfect book launch!
Monday 10th November AM
Lots more “Ho-ho-ho’s” and “My elves have got a special little something lined up for you this year,” over breakfast - God I’ll be glad when Saturday’s over. Why does my husband have to throw himself so whole-heartedly into roles? Even caught him on the phone to Nic last night asking him where he thought FC’s character motivation should come from and “Am I right to be working through the voice or should I be building the man through his walk?” My husband, the closet actor.
Set up in the hall with Fenella after school to promote the cookbook. Had to stop her when she threatened to call out, “Roll up, roll up. Get ya luverly grub books ‘ere,” but we were amazed that they sold … well … like hot-cakes! Already more than halfway through our first batch and lots of orders in the bag.
We are officially CCL fundraisers! Well that was obvious when we saw the looks of Gestapo and the Gnome - they really should stop smearing cow dung under their noses, they’d look so much more attractive.
PM
Wrapping, wrapping and wrapping - still working my way through FC presents and lucky dip prizes.
Max thinks his home has turned into Santa’s grotto and Ned thinks it’s turned into a sweat-shop.
Not long to go …
Tuesday 11th November AM
Max was so sweet this morning over breakfast. He said he thought I was the best mummy ever and he loved me so much for all the hard work I’d done for the Christmas fair.
“And you know, Mummy, I heard my teachers talking in the playground and they said it was mummies like you that made the school a nicer place to work. It’s the snotty bitches who make it horrid.”
The innocence with which this was repeated stopped me from reprimanding him and, in fact, brought a tear to my eye - part sentimental, part knicker-wetting belly-laugh.
Couldn’t wait to get to the school to pass that little gem on to Fenella.
PM
Wrapping, wrapping, wrapping.
Happy, happy, happy.
Christmas, Christmas, Christmas!
Manic? Me?
Wednesday 12th November AM
Have managed to keep back some of the cookbooks to show at the fair so that we can take more orders as we’ve just about sold out of the first batch. We’ll have raised way up above a term’s school fees for CCL so we couldn’t be happier.
In contrast to Gestapo, the Gnome and cronies, who stand sneering at the gates muttering about the fund raising,“It’s like wandering into a shop and seeing something that you want but can’t afford. Do
you really expect a nice lady to come in and just offer to buy it for you?” Another added her gripe, “You can’t afford, you don’t get.”
Cliché after cliché - not stopping to think how small minded and selfish they sound. Fenella said that most of them would be nothing without their sugar daddies but, of course, that thought wouldn’t enter their Meemie psyche.
Sent up a silent prayer that, if I ever won the lottery, I’d stay true to myself and be kind and decent like F&J - can’t imagine a few extra noughts in our bank account turning me into a hard-nosed bitch but they do say money can change you.
It would certainly transform my wardrobe though and I’d need to make regular donations to charities to compensate for not buying my clothes there anymore. I’d hate to think that my gain resulted in someone else’s loss.
Then I could go to Armani and Chanel with a clear conscience. The difficult part would be telling Lou!
PM
Ned moaning that his MG-goddess-type-wife has disappeared and turned into a wrapping freak - all he ever gets now is pasta and salad, if he’s lucky.
Told him he knows where the kitchen and the new cookbook are, so go and get chopping.
Think I heard him mutter something about Mrs Christmas not treating Father Christmas like that after a hard night delivering presents.
Advised him that, if he got his elves to help, we’d get fed a lot quicker. If he wants help getting into character, I’m the girl for the job.
Thursday 13th November
Poo and Shaaaron have now snaffled away other ‘inappropriate tombola donations’ - one being a bottle of Liebfraumilch (“too naff for words!”)
The last stash consigned to the cupboard was given with our Harvest Festival contributions in October so I think I’ll organise an extra delivery to the local old folk’s home next week. Bet they’d love a bottle of German wine, glacé fruits and liqueur chocolates to make their Christmas go with a swing.
Much talk at the gates this morning about cakes, cookies and goodies that mothers were going home to prepare for delivery tomorrow. Of course there was also, “Oh, I’ve just left it to the nanny. She makes a fantastic Lithuanian Nut Crunch, which I’ve told her to do without the nuts. Don’t want to get sued do we?”
And then Lydia-Boss-Lady came in with, “I bought Olga an organic packet mix. She’s far too dim to follow a recipe and she can just pop it in the oven while she’s cooking her final batch of pizzas.”
Went home to knock up a couple of dozen Moist Muffins and a Victoria Sponge - a very enjoyable morning, regardless of the lack of staff.
Friday 14th November AM
Fair set-up!
Fenella and I arrived at the school armed with rolls of cellophane, ribbons, bows and price tags ready to start work on our cake stall presentation - “You vill conform, little muffin!”
Thankfully there was no assembly so we had the entire main hall to work in, only interrupted occasionally by mothers or nannies dropping off their contributions.
We were working quite happily and methodically, gradually beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel, when Gestapo arrived in full gym kit and huge shades. She was brandishing a box of cakes she’d obviously picked up at the local deli, mumbling, “Too bloody busy,” and “Far nicer than home-made anyway.”
As she was leaving, she dropped the bombshell.
“Off to get battered by the personal trainer now. Oh yes … almost forgot. The nanny brigade have finished the pizzas but they won’t be around for bagel preparation or crèche duties tomorrow. Silly bitches have decided to go to Brighton for the weekend - we’d fire them if we could, but how could we replace them at such short notice? Anyway, sure you’ll sort something out. Ciao!”
Had to stop Fenella from chasing after her with a roll of cellophane, when all I really wanted to do was join her in battle.
Sat in silence for a couple of minutes, weighing up the implications of what had just been said.
Fenella spoke first, “No, sod it! They’re not going to dump this on us. They agreed to take on the food and even talked us into having the menu they wanted so they can bloody well get on with it. It’s not our fault the nannies have upped and left - and bloody good luck to them, I say. Although, I’m frankly surprised at Olga for not letting on to us.”
At that same moment I received a text:
I SO SORRY. I JUST FIND OUT BOUT WOT OTHER NANNIES DOING. COWS NOT INVITE ME TO BRIETON. I CAN HELP U. OLGA
Poor Olga, the only nanny left behind and she was still willing to help us out.
We compiled a carefully worded text back to her thanking her for her offer but telling her we thought she should let Lydia-Boss-Lady know that she wasn’t going to help if none of the other nannies were. The rest, we would sort out.
Easy as pie! Aaaaaggghhh!
PM
What a day - am just about dead on my feet and still have tomorrow to get through.
We knew we wouldn’t get hold of Gestapo after she left the school this morning - there was no way she would keep her mobile on during a session with her personal trainer - so Fenella decided to call the Gnome. I sat in dumb-struck awe, as she calmly but firmly told her, “As your original plan to use your nannies seems to have fallen through, the remainder of the preparation will need to be taken on by your team. I’m sure you’ll remember your ideas and projections were received with great excitement by the majority of the mothers at the meeting and it would be such a dreadful shame to let them down - not something one would want to be remembered for. We’ll relieve you of your setting up duties at the school tonight so that you’ll have more time to organise yourself - 600 bagels might take you a while. Ciao!”
It was pure poetry in motion - she didn’t stop to draw breath, giving the Gnome no opportunity to refuse. Gosh, think we may finally have hardened ourselves.
Then we made an executive decision to do away with the crèche - you take your babies, you look after them. Simple. It’s not as if it was a profit making scheme anyway - in fact we’d also save on the nanny fees so it was no skin off our noses.
Had to laugh when we saw the food team as we went in later to start on the set up after school pick up. Gestapo was sniffing her brand new acrylics and complaining that she’d never get rid of the smell of smoked salmon and she’d swing for the nannies on their return.
Setting up went smoothly, with the help of a few devoted mothers who were quite happy to muck in and get the job done - Sarah and Eva included. They’d stayed true to their word and organised fantastic games for the kids and were invaluable to the general organisation.
The stage is now prepared and we’re ready for action. Quick glass of celebratory Chardonnay, a ciggie and then bed.
Wonder if Gestapo still stinks?
Saturday 15th November
Christmas Fair!!!
Up at the crack of dawn to make myself look vaguely Manor Housey for the day ahead. Decided on jeans, boots and a long knitted coat, as I knew I’d be constantly back and forth from the school hall to the playground.
Max was beside himself with excitement - going to school on a Saturday with Mummy and Daddy. Boy, it doesn’t get much better than that for a five year old.
Left the boys to finish their breakfast and set off for a final check before we opened the school doors.
Fenella was already there, looking gorgeous in a full-length suede coat and killer heels. “I know I’ll regret them later but they make me feel so much more in control when, really, I’m bricking it!” She giggled nervously.
Nic & Rick arrived early with their boxes of salt dough figures and handed them over to the mummy in charge. They then set up their face-painting and took the opportunity to have a quick look around the other stalls. Think I spotted Nic buying a beautiful hand-made necklace - just the sort of thing he knows I’d like for Christmas. (I hope!)
Pritesh dropped off Mrs S with all her jars and bottles and said he’d be back to collect her later. “Maybe we could have a quick drink together,
Libby? As a way of thanking you for all you do for Mum?” He did that cheeky winky thing again as he left Mrs S arranging her wares and humming a Bollywood version of ‘Bermuda Triangle’.
Fenella giggled and went off to buy us some mulled wine to steady our nerves - 9am, must be a record.
Before we knew it, it was opening time and the rest of the day passed in a blur of problem solving, filling in on stalls when people didn’t show and being general dogsbodies.
HIGHLIGHTS OF THE DAY
Gestapo and Co arrived looking less than their usual groomed selves - the bagels had clearly taken their toll and it didn’t look like much sleep had been had. Thank heavens for Touche Éclat!