Diary of a Mummy Misfit #1

by Amanda Egan

  Ned loved every minute of his FC stint and had to be told twice that his time was up and he needed to ‘feed his reindeer’ (hand over to the next volunteer Dad).

  Nic and Rick painted the faces of 130 little darlings, whilst putting up with the rudeness of mothers in the way that only homosexuals can. Heard Nic mumble to Rick that one miserable little brat had exactly the same slapped arse face as its mother but he then turned to the mother and simpered sweetly, “My, we can see where she gets her looks from, can’t we?”

  Mrs S completely sold out and her pickles were declared a triumph. She also got several orders and was quite the belle of the ball. Despite saying very loudly to me, “Oh Libbybeta, so many pretty women but such very ugly souls.”

  Took another 100 or so orders for cookbooks - we’ve succeeded beyond our wildest dreams and were complimented non-stop. There was even talk of us taking over CCL fundraising full time but Fenella and I feigned deafness - we needed to recover from our current ordeal and have a chance to think about it.

  Ned and Josh were roped in to do the final stint on the food as Gestapo and Co had failed to draw up a complete rota. Our men-folk took it on themselves to reduce the price of the remaining food as it seemed daft to be stuck with it. The Gnome was horrified and tried to stand up to them - hmmph! Ned explained that it was better to get something for the stock, even if it only meant covering their costs. She spluttered and stuttered a lot and then went off in search of Gestapo for back-up. When they returned, Gestapo told Ned they could, “Do what you like with the effing food. I’m just glad the whole dreadful ordeal is over. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m off to spend some money.” Ned and Josh then spent a very enjoyable half hour, ‘helping with the leftovers’.

  Could see our funny money being spent at a ridiculous rate of knots - even the kids were clutching handfuls of it and rushing feverishly from stall to stall, game to game and parting with their cash. Can’t wait to see the final tally-up.

  The competitiveness of the parents during the raffle was tangible - probably the first time they’ve ever managed to stay quiet for longer than a couple of minutes. That was until somebody won a prize and the others felt aggrieved. Then, all you could hear was lots of “Oh well, there’s a surprise!” or “God, how many prizes did that family win last year?” Considering Fenella and I were well aware that some families had bought in excess of a hundred tickets, I guess it does change the odds slightly!

  BIGGEST HIGHLIGHTS

  It’s over!

  We survived and it was a huge success.

  Gestapo and the Gnome still stink of salmon - Nic and Rick told me.

  Managed to avoid the drink with Pritesh. Although he did kiss me on the cheek in full view of everyone and he smelt rather nice.

  Fenella and I remained sober but, more importantly, our reputations are intact.

  Guess who won the signed copies of MG’s cookbooks? Would you believe it?

  Sunday 16th November AM

  Knackered.

  Didn’t even bother to get dressed, just flopped around the house all day. Felt a bit low but couldn’t understand why. Spoke to Fenella who said she felt the same, adding, “A bit like the come-down after a drug, I suppose - after all, we’ve been living on adrenaline for the past few weeks. Perhaps we should ask Dress-Up Mummy for a few tabs?”

  Decided to go for a ‘pat on the back’ lunch tomorrow when we’d be feeling more human.

  PM

  Now I feel even more miserable.

  Ned hadn’t told me because he didn’t want to worry me yesterday, but there’s talk of another round of redundancies. He says he’s going to start considering his options before it’s too late.

  Wonder how much Harrods’ Father Christmases get paid? Shame it’s only seasonal though.

  Off to bed to resume ‘the ostrich’ position.

  Monday 17th November

  Bugger, bum and poo.

  Max calmly informed me over breakfast that his school shoes are too small. Forty pounds for shoes that lasted just over two months!

  Had a quick feel and, he’s quite right, his toes are totally scrunched up. Sent him to school in his two-pound gym shoes (which ironically still fit!) and a note to his teacher explaining why.

  Have to get new shoes straight after school this afternoon - a cost we could really do without.

  Fenella must have sensed my concerns because she suggested we had lunch at her place, “Instead of paying for overpriced crap we don’t really need.”

  Thank heavens for sensitive friends.

  Cheered ourselves up over a bowl of pasta and a spritzer - initial figures from the school treasurer are looking like we made a profit in excess of five-and-a-half grand.

  A record for any Manor House school fair so far - the least successful stall was the food, which barely broke even “due to over pricing and possibly ill-advised choice of food”.

  Both had a sneaky snigger and another spritzer - this time without the soda water.

  Tuesday 18th November

  Email from Poo, on behalf of Shaaaron and the committee:

  ‘Congrats on a truly sterling job, ladies. Manor House considers itself very lucky to have mothers like you on board. Can we book you for next year? Ha, ha!’

  Ha bloody ha - NO!

  Once was fun, twice would be considered utter madness - book me in for a half hour stint on a stall as my contribution next year.

  And if Fenella says otherwise, I’ll be telling Josh about her illicit hat flogging.

  Wednesday 19th November AM

  Set off for school this morning, finally feeling the high again - the fair was over, it’d been a success and all was right with the world.

  Our car was obviously oblivious to this fact because nothing happened as I tried to pull away at the traffic lights. One of my biggest nightmares had come true. I was sitting in rush hour traffic with a queue of cars behind me hooting and hollering and there was sod all I could do about it.

  Max found it all greatly exciting and waved at all the irate drivers as they moved around us.

  Frantically called Ned and he had the nerve to ask me if I’d remembered to put any petrol in.

  “Of course I’ve put bloody petrol in. D’you think I‘m totally stupid?” I was aware that this wasn’t helping the situation but was frankly insulted.

  Had to wait there for a mortifying half hour until the breakdown man turned up, only to shake his head in the manner of a perplexed neuro-surgeon, saying, “Sorry love. Can’t diagnose the problem here. Have to take her in for a closer look but I’ve got a feeling it could be your onboard computer.”

  Walked the rest of the way to school, wondering how much this little hiccup was going to set us back. First the shoes, now the car. Let’s just hope the set-backs don’t come in threes.

  PM

  The garage called late this afternoon and it looks like we could be up for a seven hundred quid bill. We silently polished off a cheapie bottle of plonk - not a lot of jollity in our house tonight, but sorrows must be drowned.

  Thursday 20th November

  School assembly this morning - turned up looking and feeling like seven types of Dog shit (and believe me, I know cos I’ve pooper-scooped them all). We’d overslept and then had the sweaty but rainy trudge to school - no hopping in to the car for us on a late day.

  So of course, it would be the morning that Hinge & Bracket decided to summon Fenella and me to the front of the hall and present us with bouquets in thanks for all our hard work.

  There I stood in my jeans and denim jacket, hair like a bird’s nest and not a scrap of make-up. Beside me stood an immaculately Boden-clad Fenella in full war-paint and fab boots.

  Had that awful feeling of ‘not belonging’ again.

  Accepted my flowers with good grace and set off for the walk home, not wanting to stick around and talk to anyone.

  Fenella called me on the mobile, “Where are you, you silly cow? I was going to offer you a lift home.”

  E
xplained that I wasn’t feeling very sociable and just needed to wallow in my own self-pity for a while. Hung up with a heavy heart.

  Was surprised to see her outside the house when I got there, dangling her car keys and telling me to give her a lift home. “If you drop me off, you can keep the Bug until your car’s done. I can drive Josh’s, he doesn’t need it during the week. Now shut your miserable mouth and stop gawping. I need to get home and tidy up before the cleaner comes.”

  I really am living in a different world but, hey, what do I care? I’ve got a brand spanking new VW to zip about in for the next few days.

  Oh, and a very thoughtful and kind (wealthy) friend!

  Friday 21st November

  Mrs S now considering selling her pickles on the internet. She made a huge profit at the fair and thinks it’s a very viable business. She’s even made an appointment to see her bank manager with a business plan she put together with Skunk. Think it’s about time I met this dude to see if his intentions are honourable.

  Max home from school, very excited with a letter about his nativity next month. He’s been chosen to play a shepherd and needs a tunic and standard checked tea-towel as sported by all herders worth their salt at primary schools the length and breadth of the country.

  Grateful that it can all be put together for a song and won’t see me having to delve into our rapidly dwindling bank account. Think even this house can run to a tea-towel. Might even buy a new one for the occasion.

  Was amused to see that Max’s teacher had added a hand written note at the bottom of the standard letter.

  Mrs Marchant,

  Please thank Max for his kind offer of Dog to play the part of a sheep but I’m sure you will understand that we are unable to have domestic animals on the school premises.

  Hoping that Max and, indeed, Dog, won’t be too disappointed!

  Thank goodness. Dog isn’t the most obedient of creatures and will only perform for vast quantities of food. Can’t imagine what Max was thinking volunteering his services. He doesn’t even look remotely like a sheep anyway.

  Mum arrived to babysit and had a chuckle over the letter while I completed a hurried job on my make up before we headed off to Jenny and Colin’s for dinner.

  “Oh, Libby. I wouldn’t give it a second thought. You weren’t the brightest button in the box at that age and … look at you now.”

  Couldn’t help noticing how her voice trailed off at the end of her sentence and she lost a little of her conviction, but that’s Mum for you - always ready to stick her court shoe in when you’re down.

  Left the house to her saying to Max, “Of course he looks a bit like a sheep, Poppet. Just a bit longer and less woolly. And with a very loud bark of course but, apart from that, very much like a sheep, I’d say.”

  Saturday 22nd November AM

  Last night at Jenny and Colin’s was a bit mixed - great company (well that’s obvious - never a dull moment with them and F&J), great food, flowing wine and all in the most superb ‘little hice’ crammed full with stunning art deco antiques.

  Combine that with lots of laughter and a few side-shows from Fenella and Jenny and it had been the perfect night.

  Until Jenny decided that, as a friend, she’d let us know that the school fees were about to go up by a ‘considerable amount’.

  Colin made a big show about telling her to, “Sshh Jen!” and “It’s not the time or the place.”

  I know she hadn’t said it with any mischief intended, and we’re grateful to her for the tip-off, but the evening lost a little of its sparkle. We hadn’t budgeted for an increase quite so soon and, if redundancy is in the offing, we’ve a lot at stake.

  As I’m writing I feel a sudden sense of panic - have we bitten off more than we can chew? And are all my feelings of ‘not belonging’, trying to tell me something? Here I am agonising, when to most of the other Manor Housers a fee increase just means cutting down a bit on one of their many holidays.

  Dog is rubbing his head on my leg in a comforting way that makes me believe he understands our plight.

  Just realised he also does that when he needs a wee so maybe he’s more tuned in to his own plight.

  PM

  In a fit of madness, I went on the Internet and ordered Ned a laptop for Christmas - nothing to pay for ten months and, afterwards, manageable monthly payments (provided Ned still has a job). He’s wanted one for so long, I just wanted to make him happy.

  OK, OK … I know it wasn’t the most logical thing to do but at least I’ve deferred the pain of spending real money at Christmas and I can pretend that we can afford all the things other people have.

  Shit … now I’m beginning to realise what I’ve actually done! Think I’ve just gone a bit overboard with internet retail therapy.

  Oh bugger it! I can always cancel it - it won’t be despatched for seven days and there are at least two lotteries before then.

  Think the best thing I can do is go and have a nice glass of Chardonnay and a fag and think about it tomorrow.

  Sunday 23rd November

  The bloody weather’s doing nothing to lift my mood - torrential rain and non-stop storms. We’re holed up at home, apart from short bouts round the block with the dogs (whoever draws the short straw).

  Have made and stored my Christmas cake, executed numerous Christmas crafts with Max, sorted through the tree decorations and baked and frozen two tins of sausage rolls for Christmas Eve nibbles.

  Yet I don’t feel remotely festive - think I may have overdosed on Christmas fair preps.

  MUST have Christmas feelings - I have a little boy who can think of nothing else and I need to buck my ideas up and get in the mood. Write Christmas present list and pull self together.

  PRESENTS

  NED - Decide what to do about laptop - tomorrow.

  MAX - Find lots of cheap stocking fillers - as with any child, he loves the tat the most. Take trip to the Pound Shop with Fenella.

  Main presents - don’t have a clue. Go through his ‘most wanted’ list and search the web for the bargains.

  MUM - Nothing will be good enough so will probably just get her M&S smellies.

  NED’S MUM - Thankfully, easy to please. Always asks for an historical novel and then moans every year because nobody bought her one. Guess what Ria? This could be your lucky year!

  NIC, RICK, LOU, CAM, FINN, HARRIET & ELLE - have agreed on a ‘no present’ policy. Think Nic may have broken it by buying me the necklace at the fair so will get them some scented candles. Will probably stick a fiver in the post to Finn. Harriet and Elle always arrive on Christmas Day armed with goodies and masses of presents for Max, so will buy them both a ‘little something’ and say it’s from Max. Great present ban that turned out to be!

  FENELLA, JOSH & KIDS - Difficult one. First Christmas as friends. To buy or not to buy? Will she buy and then I feel bad for not buying or vice-versa? Think about it tomorrow.

  MRS S - New Mills and Boon I spotted in the book shop, “Sultan of Seduction” - must check it’s not one of their new racier range as I think she’s probably more into the chaste kiss than the full blown heaving and throbbing variety.

  TEACHERS - Read somewhere that teachers get sick of smellies and chocolates when all they really want is booze - can’t say I blame them after putting up with 20 kids all week. Surprised they don’t ask for Class A drugs! Find good wine deal at off-license and stock up on gift bags from the Pound Shop.

  All looks so easy when you see it written out. Sure it won’t cost much at all …

  Think I just felt the first stirrings of excitement - knew I could do it if I tried hard enough.

  Off to dig out Christmas CD’s but think it might be a little to early to start listening to them - best not to overdo it.

  PM

  Had a glass of wine and listened to ‘Christmas with Cliff’ - couldn’t resist and promise to put the remaining CD’s in the cupboard until mid December.

  Email from Pritesh:

  ‘Libby, am worr
ied that Mum is over-doing it with this business idea. Could we meet?’

  Sure, Pritesh, any excuse. NO, we couldn’t meet. Why can’t they get it in their heads that I’m a happily married woman? Just because I have the odd erotic dream doesn’t mean I’m on the market for an illicit affair.

  Sent polite but firm email back saying that I would speak to her and also meet with the suspect Skunk - can’t do more than that.