by Amanda Egan
“Good grief,” Fenella exclaimed, “How on earth have they managed to get themselves out at this hour? When I had Todd, I couldn’t prise him from my breast in time to get out before lunch and that was only if I had to. And as for getting dressed … Josh almost had to surgically remove my dressing gown, I’d become so attached to it.”
Slightly annoyed by the pile up of buggies which made it virtually impossible to navigate our way to our table - sure I wasn’t so thoughtless when parking Max’s. Not one of the new mummies batted an eyelid as we manoeuvred and juggled their wheeled monstrosities to get through - all too busy with their tits hanging out or cooing over their hideously wrinkled offspring. Whatever happened to discreet feeding?
Their (clearly self-appointed) leader sat, perfectly toned Armani legs crossed, with a beatific looking baby thrown over her shoulder (amazingly not a sick or dribble mark in sight) and a very expensive diary on the table. We struggled to conduct our own conversation as her booming voice kept dragging us in with, “Coffee at Angelina’s on the fourth and ‘tums and bums’ next Thursday at three.”
Fenella scooped the froth from her latte and leant over to me, “The Manor House mummies of the future. Bet old ‘Bossy Breeches’ has had her sprog’s name down since conception. It’s all such a silly business isn’t it? The competitiveness, the constant striving for perfection. Sometimes, I just want to throw it all in and head for the simple life in the country.”
Couldn’t quite see Fenella in wellies (unless they were designer of course), mucking out the pigs and foregoing her regular beauty treatments, and told her as much.
“You’re right of course, Sweedie. But I can dream can’t I?”
Our conversation was interrupted by another very loud voice, this time a Manor Houser in the corner asking her (green!) snotty nosed toddler, “Are you sure you don’t need a poo? You’re very smelly. Here let mummy get you the loo-loo.” And she proceeded to unfold some kind of portable potty in the middle of the café!
The child was reluctant to leave its ‘Babycino’ - what an absurd concept. Coffee addicts at three!
“Oh Lord, I’ve seen it all now,” Fenella said with her head in her hands. “Whatever next? Will one of the babies need a change and we’ll have to clear the tables so that the crappy nappy can be removed amongst our lattes and pastries? EXCUSE ME,” she called across to ‘Poopy Mummy’. “Could you take your child to the toilet to do that? I really don’t think it’s appropriate to let him drop his load in the middle of Starbucks.”
Although agreeing with her, I was mortified with embarrassment - I’m very much the disapproving but keep quiet type.
A bit of a fracas broke out then, with Fenella and ‘Poopy Mummy’ throwing comments back and forth and, at one point, almost coming nose to nose.
Thankfully it was all brought to a rather swift ending when ‘Poopy Toddler’ deposited the contents of the ‘loo loo’ all over the floor.
I led a raging Fenella back to our table and a trainee barista calmly informed us that we and ‘Poopy Mummy’ were now barred!
Told Ned tonight and he thought it was absolutely hilarious. “You really should choose your friends more carefully, Lib. Always knew Fenella was a trouble maker.”
Never been barred from anywhere in my life. Wonder how long this will take to get to the school gates?
Dreamt that Fenella had been caught smoking in the toilets at Manor House and Hinge & Bracket expelled both of us.
Guilty by association!
Friday 20th March
Lower school disco - 4.30 - 6.30
Word at the school at last count had snowballed to Fenella having broken ‘Poopy Mummy’s’ nose! The story had evolved at different stages of the day from “The potty was emptied over Fenella’s head” to “Security called the police and they were cautioned.”
Our fifteen minutes of fame were over by the time the disco started. Lots of mums turned up to help because (a) they fancy Mr Rooney and (b) they fancy the DJ, Mr Sparklepants, who’s done the school disco for years and gained himself a reputation as a bit of a charmer.
Wish we’d known that was the way to get volunteers when we were doing the Christmas fair. Must add note to files before we pass on to next unsuspecting organisers.
Spent most of the time boogying like manic things - relishing in the fact that Max and Todd aren’t yet at the “Oh my God, you’re so embarrassing” stage. Best work-out I’ve had for years. Had to keep going into the playground for fresh air and water. Fenella said it was our ‘chill out and come down’ zone!
Trudged home - sweaty and exhausted. Max’s first school disco and I felt like I used to after an all-nighter at a club.
“Golly that was fun wasn’t it, Lib,” Fenella giggled. “Not sure we’ll be able to walk tomorrow though. Or stand the excitement of Seedlings drinks at Fiona’s either. Bet there won’t be much boogying there! Just the bog standard stuffy chit-chat.”
Think it’s good to see how the other half live. It always makes me green with envy for a few days but eventually I recover - and there’s always the lottery tomorrow.
Saturday 21st March AM
Seedlings drinks chez Fiona & Charles
Was woken obscenely early for a Saturday by a phone call for Ned. It was a Manor House dad, asking why he wasn’t at the golf course!
After much confusion and Ned explaining that he didn’t play golf, the dad realised his mistake. “Oh sorry, wrong Ned. You must be the one who’s married to the coffee shop trouble-maker,” he laughed. “Sorry to have troubled you.”
I’ll kill Fenella when I see her tonight. Blood will be shed on Fiona’s new shag pile or coir matting or whatever’s de rigueur in flooring at the moment.
PM
Mum and Bert arrived to babysit, complete with ‘When Harry Met Sally’ - would love to have been a fly on the wall to find out if Mum actually understood the table-slapping diner scene.
F&J picked us up in a cab and we left to Mum shouting down the garden path, “Aren’t your shoes a little ‘last season’, Libby?”
This from the woman who only ever goes to Clarks because they do a lovely ‘wide range’ that accommodates her bunion. Think she was just showing off in front of Bert.
Sunday 22nd March
Am pleased to report that the green-eyed monster didn’t raise its ugly head, as Fiona and Charles’s house was cold and sterile. It was obviously once stunning but they’d chucked bucket loads of cash at it until it resembled a vulgar show-home.
Ned got chatting to Charles and discovered that the fabric on the walls in the family room cost more than a large family car. Why Charles felt the compulsion to divulge this information is beyond me. Perhaps I’ve got the small talk business all wrong and should be discussing the price of our new roof or the amount outstanding on our credit card.
Fiona politely informed her guests that those drinking red wine should refrain from going into the drawing room (a funereal looking affair with massive flower arrangements and endless black and white posed family shots), as the Persian rugs were priceless and she’d be “simply heartbroken” if anything was spilled on them. Fenella’s bloodshed would have to wait till another time. Found myself becoming unusually clumsy and dropping bits of canapés, so decided to stay in the kitchen where the least amount of damage could be done.
Ladies in the kitchen were asked to remove footwear as the heels were “monsters for damaging the marble”. Noticed that Fiona was herself barefoot beneath her linen trousers, with an immaculate pedicure.
Couldn’t risk removing my boots as I couldn’t remember which socks I had on and my own feet haven’t seen a professional pedicure in their life, so decided the family room was probably my next best bet.
Felt that, at that rate, I’d end up in the garden. Was breathing allowed in the family room or would it shrink the fabric?
Gestapo was there, sans ‘Rudeman’ who was now of course on his little break, courtesy of our Majesty. She looked like she’d tried to do
a home job on her roots and the result was vaguely tortoiseshell - maybe it’s the new Manor House trend and I’m just being bitchy.
Noticed she was knocking back the Laurent Perrier at an alarming speed and laughing rather too loudly as if to say, “Everything is just hunky-dory in my world so don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Fenella and I escaped, albeit half way down the road, for an illicit ciggie. Couldn’t imagine carbon monoxide or ash on Fiona’s herbaceous borders going down too well.
“The further away the better would suit me,” Fenella joked as we lit up. “God, is it me or are they all a bunch of crashing bores? If I have to hear one more word about “where the smart money is” from the men or gym-versus-personal trainer from the women, I swear I’ll blow a foo-foo valve on her bloody Persian rugs - no red wine in the drawing room? Are we Philistines?”
The rest of the evening passed in the usual blur. Was actually relieved to see ‘Letchy Dad’ and have him drool over my tits for ten minutes just to relieve the boredom.
Sad times are these when the highlight of a girl’s evening is being chatted up by the most unattractive man in the room, just because she knows he won’t regale her with figures of his huge bank balance or a room by room description of his villa in Île de Ré.
Rushed home to check lottery results. Feng Shui not kicked in yet - only had one number but, as I pointed out to Ned, it’s a step in the right direction.
Dreamt I was living in a big FO house and had turned all Mrs Bouquet-ish. Spanked Fenella for drinking Irn Bru in the drawing room - slightly worrying!
Fenella drinking Irn Bru?
Monday 23rd March AM
Sushi party after school
Can’t believe the kids break up for Easter on Wednesday. Where do the terms go? No sooner have we paid one set of school fees and the next one’s due.
Did a mad early morning dash to Waitrose for the sushi selections - Ned can’t wait for supper tonight as he’s praying the little darlings won’t touch it with a barge pole.
Think he’s looking forward to babysitting the three kids again as it gives him an excuse to ditch the job hunting and get on the Playstation - poor Mario ends up bearing the brunt of all his frustrations. At least it’s cheaper than therapy.
Went to Fenella’s to go through our checklists and store the sushi. She sheepishly informed me that she’d just had a phone call from Shaaaron and had again volunteered us, this time to organise the Easter egg hunt on Wednesday. The mum who usually does it has gone into premature labour and Shaaaron has a “fiendishly busy week”.
Set off to a remote industrial estate to buy 1000 miniature eggs made in a nut-free factory (natch).
A mummy misfit just never knows where her day will find her next.
PM
Had delicious dinner of sushi and chilled Möet (a guilt gift from Fenella!)
Party generally went well, although twenty little girls went home very hungry.
Tuesday 24th March AM
The weather forecast for tomorrow isn’t particularly spring-like so we ‘Easter bunnies’ have been asked by Hinge & Bracket to hide the eggs inside the school rather than in the gardens.
Will need to get to the school for about 7.30am to ‘lay’ the eggs behind books, under cushions and on shelves - cheers Fenella!
Ned has a rather untimely interview today. Just as I was getting used to the idea of having him around and, indeed, having a bit of company in the holidays (F&J are off to Italy) he may well return to work. Suppose I should look on the bright side - wonder if it’s the Feng Shui doing its thing?
PM
Needn’t have worried about losing my hubbie just yet. Ned was over-qualified for the job and the useless agency shouldn’t have put him forward in the first place.
Lasagne and a couple of glasses of the offie’s cheapest - not quite as glam as last night.
Wednesday 25th March
Never would have imagined it could take quite so long to distribute the eggs - tricky balance between making them too easy to find or virtually impossible.
At 8.30 we simply chucked the remaining eggs into the middle of the last two classrooms - what do the kids care, so long as they get chocolate?
Lovely Easter assembly where we all sang ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’. Hinge & Bracket talked about the joy of spring and new beginnings. Think I heard Gestapo ‘harumph’ at this - don’t imagine she’ll be setting off to any exotic locations this holiday either.
Please God don’t let me bump into her on any of my many visits to the park - I’m not that desperate for company.
And so the end of another term and, if ‘H&B’ are to be believed, the promise of something fresh and lovely.
Definitely feel it’s time for our luck to change and, after all, things can only get better.
DELIVERY
Tuesday 21st April AM
Summer term starts
Well that was our Easter break then.
Sadly the Feng Shui still hasn’t delivered, so no lottery wins and no job for Ned yet. Have now named the money tree ‘Fortune’ and talk to it regularly.
The holidays saw us reacquainting ourselves with the park and I’m now on first name terms with the lady in the park café, the toilet cleaner and the mad woman who goes every day to feed the pigeons. She probably tells people she’s on first name terms with the mad woman who takes her son to the park every day.
Poor Max set off to school this morning, so excited to be going back but probably in for a day of hearing about all the other kids’ international jaunts.
Our Visa took another hammering to cover the school fees and Ned is now making serious noises about approaching CCL. We’re in the difficult position of knowing we can’t foot the bill for September but things could change at any time. Trouble is, if they don’t change and we can’t send Max back, we lose our hefty deposit because we won’t have given a term’s notice.
It all seemed just about manageable this time last year, when we were counting the days to the acceptance letter - just goes to show, you just never know how the tides will turn.
PM
Max home and exhausted but exhilarated from his first day back.
He filled us in on the Seedling’s goss over his pasta and garlic bread.
“Mia went to stay with her granny on a farm because her mummy was very sad without her daddy and Felix went to a country where he could ride camels and I think Letitia said she went to America and held a big eagle.”
When asked what he’d revealed in circle time about his holidays, he said, “I said it was very interesting because we all seemed to have spent our holidays with animals. My best fun was feeding the pigeons in the park with my mummy, daddy and Dog & Dot.”
How long will we get away with such simple pleasures? And have the other kids cottoned on yet?
Boy, I bet the teachers have a laugh in their coffee breaks!
Wednesday 22nd April
Had to give Mrs S a lift to the vet today as Bazzer-the-budgie isn’t well. He seems to have lost half his feathers and she’s had an attempt at knitting him a jumper with wing holes. Sadly it looks more like a ventilated willy warmer. Wonder if Gestapo’s pet clothes outlet does budgie boleros?
Anyway, Bazzer is possibly suffering from stress (know the feeling, Baz) and needs to go back next week for more tests which will cost Mrs S a ridiculous amount of money but she says he’s worth it. Dread to think what she’ll be like if anything happens to him - don’t think she’s the type who would happily accept a replacement. Might need to email Pritesh or perhaps discuss with Skunk - probably the safer option.
Max received an invite to the Gnome’s daughter’s party next month. Thankfully neither Max or Todd are very keen on Ophelia so they’ve decided they don’t want to go. Fenella and I were both having kittens - it’s an unsupervised treasure hunt around the local common!
Who in their right mind would let their five-year olds roam, on their own, on a London common? Surely we weren�
�t the only ones with reservations? It’ll be interesting to hear who’ll actually let their children go.
Today I heard the Gnome telling Gestapo about her plans for the party, “Oh it’s terribly safe on that part of the common and we’ll give them very clear maps. All they have to do is set off in the direction we point them, in groups of course, hunt treasure for an hour or so and then meet me back at the café for tea. Fantastically easy party and it gives the kids a taste of freedom, don’t you think?”
Can’t say I was surprised to hear Gestapo and also ‘Dress Up Mummy,’ who had now joined them (in a cow hide mini skirt), agreeing enthusiastically. “Oh yah,” Gestapo gushed, “I’ve actually started to let Mia go to the local shop for me. So important to encourage their independence and it’s never too early to start.”