by Amanda Egan
Gnome seemed to have lost a little of her cockiness and was a tad subdued at pick up this afternoon. Her ‘fantastically easy party’ had blown up in her face and she was the current talk of the town for all the wrong reasons.
Fenella and I just wallowed in the smugness of being the only parents who’d spotted the bleedin’ obvious.
Tuesday 12th May
Ned still hasn’t had any more interviews. Everything seems to be at a standstill in the City. Those that are lucky enough to still have jobs are hanging on to them for dear life and coming to terms with the fact that there won’t be any hefty bonuses around the corner.
I imagine that a huge percentage of Manor Housers come from ‘old money’ so it won’t affect them - guess Fenella’s part of that camp too as nothing seems to curb her spending. Have noticed she’s keeping very quiet about it so I guess she’s trying to spare my feelings but I’ve noticed her new gear and several pairs of very expensive looking shoes - after all, I am a woman and I’ve been trained to spot these things from the cradle.
Josh tactfully had a quiet word to Ned, over a pie and a pint last week, and said they’d like to help in any way they can. Fenella had wanted to talk to me about it but Josh thought it would be better man to man. I’m told that much back slapping and hand shaking ensued but Ned had, of course, politely declined the offer.
What lovely friends we have - no amount of money in the world could buy the likes of Nic & Rick, Lou & Cam or Fenella & Josh.
And for that I truly do thank the Cosmos.
Wednesday 13th May AM
Max announced through a mouthful of Shreddies at breakfast that we’ll have had Dog for a year on Saturday.
“We really should have a party for him, shouldn’t we Mummy?”
Agreed that we’d do something very simple but could feel Ned cringing at the prospect of any expenditure.
Bumped into Fenella at the gates and asked her if they were free to come for ‘nothing special’ on Saturday to celebrate Dog’s arrival.
“Oh, Sweedie we’d love to. I’m sure we’ve got a crate of Möet that’s close to its sell-by date and a freezer full of delish nibbles that Mummy brought the last time she was up - got enough to feed an army.”
Past its sell-by date! Champagne? Yeah, nice try, Fenella.
PM
Max very busy making decorations and pictures for ‘Dog’s Do’. We’ve also asked Rick and Nic who said they’d bring bucket loads of vino, some horrendously calorific puds and, of course, Stripe in his bandana.
Told Ned we wouldn’t be spending anything at this rate and he laughed, “That’s because our friends are all trying to help by stealth. They’re not allowed to give us money so they donate booze and food, the things they know we like best after money!”
Quite looking forward to a bit of a get together. Far too much despondency going on around here for my liking.
Went to bed feeling remarkably positive.
Thursday 14th May AM
Ye Gods and little fishes, as my Auntie Maisie was famous for saying!
Hinge or Bracket or Ant or Dec (even harder to tell because I was so excited) called to say that one of the current CCL kids is emigrating and there’s a possibility that, subject to the other Trustees’ consent, we may receive funding in September if necessary.
Spent a great deal of time bopping around the kitchen like a stupid thing. Max might not have to leave after all.
Thank you, Cosmos, Feng Shui, angels, Raphael or Running River - whoever was responsible, thank you!
PM
After a couple of (hopefully not too premature) glasses of celebratory wine, it dawned on me that we’d become one of the ‘unclean charity cases’.
Consoled myself with the fact that I’ve never actually felt like I belonged anyway, so might as well go the whole hog.
Max will thank us for this one day. When he’s a hot-shot lawyer or sought after brain surgeon.
Or even when he’s a uni drop-out working in McDonald’s. I just know he’ll thank us.
Friday 15th May AM
Fry-Up Party
Put our final touches together for the ‘Fry Up’ party tonight and then set off to stock up on the food. Think Jamie Oliver would have a cardiac arrest at the cholesterol content - but we’re just doing as instructed.
Ned more than happy to settle in for another night’s babysitting -this time with Josh, who’s decided to order us all a take-away (some fancy Taiwanese place he wants to try) when Fenella and I get back. Don’t imagine the kids will get a look in on the Playstation but at least they’ll have company while the daddies play nicely together.
PM
That’s one party that will stick with me for a very long time!
Twelve little boys and girls dressed up to the nines in their overly adult finery, sitting at a massive dining table which, in compliance with ‘Naughty Mummy’s’ specifications, looked like it had been set for a Heads of State dinner.
‘Naughty Mummy’ had also insisted we play classical music as they dined, although it was quite clear that neither Ella-Louise nor any of her guests actually wanted to listen to it.
But dine they did! I’d never have imagined they could get through so much tucker in such a short space of time. Fenella and I were tossing eggs and sizzling rashers like entrants for the Guinness World Records - it was almost impossible to keep up with them. I can only imagine they were filling up on the contraband grub so vehemently denied them by their mummies.
At one point, Fenella asked them if they’d like to change the music to something “a little more fitting for your age group.”
When she was met with blank but polite stares she added, “Surely, you’ve got something better than this crap?!”
Ella-Louise immediately ran to her illicit CD collection upstairs and suddenly the austere and stuffy dining room was pulsating to the rhythm of Black Eyed Peas and an obscure band I’d never heard of.
It was just fantastic to see that little bunch of eleven year olds start to enjoy themselves and actually be allowed to act their age.
Once they’d had their fill of pig, dairy, carbs, fat, sugar and every additive known to man, Ella-Louise asked if it would be OK for them to continue their ‘rave’ in the garden.
With the help of an extension cable we set up a portable CD player and let them run amok - thankfully no neighbours to report us as the property is so huge.
Wish I’d had a camera to capture the images. Ball gowns were flying and knickers on show as the girls bounced on a trampoline - all ideas of being a ‘proper lady’ forgotten. Boys with rolled up trousers and bow-ties askew, kicking a football around and behaving like … well, boys!
Fenella put her arm around me as we supervised the group, glass of wine in hand. “This is what it’s all about isn’t it, Lib? Being allowed to be a kid.”
Felt a bit like a kid myself as the children were collected by their parents and their comments ranged from, “Wicked party” to “You’re cool mums!”
Could ‘Fry Up’ parties be the fad of the future?
Saturday 16th May AM
Feeling slightly worse for wear after celebrating our ‘coolness’ with a very exotic take-away.
Ned and Josh kept making jokes like, “Yeah, you’re really kickin,’” and, “We got ourselves a couple of fine ‘ho’s!”
Both agreed it was our best party to date and the kids will probably be talking about it for ages - allowed to let their hair down! What would ‘Naughty Mummy’ have to say? Well, if she hadn’t been parting her own hair for the cabbie she might have been around to host it herself.
Spent a lazy morning preparing for ‘Dog’s Do’ this afternoon - defrosting Fenella’s nibbles and bunging the champers on ice.
Can’t believe a year has passed since the scruffy but rotund little mutt arrived on our doorstep - and what a year it’s been!
PM
Think Dog and the dogs enjoyed themselves. They looked very sweet in their matching bandanas - fl
oral prints, courtesy of Fenella.
Nic said Dog looked a bit gay in his - six puppies later and we’re still gender confused.
Mrs S seemed to enjoy herself and has cheered up slightly since Skunk bought her a canary - Desmond. No reason for the name, she told us, just a name she’d always liked and, we were told, a good name for a canary. Anyway, Desmond also seemed to enjoy himself. As did Skunk, who’s trying to teach him to whistle, “Twisted Fire-Starter”.
Not quite sure how Pritesh managed to again wrangle himself an invite but he was there, charm personified and flirting outrageously with Fenella. Confess to feeling an irrational flash of jealousy and realised that the atmosphere changes slightly when he’s around. I feel more desirable and Ned pulls himself up to his full height and sucks his tummy in. Half expect him to cock his leg at any minute to mark me as his territory. Which, of course, I am and a little bit of harmless fantasy will never change that.
Sure the animals consumed far too many tid-bits than considered healthy so around six, after settling Mrs S and Desmond back next door, the rest of us set off for a booze-fuelled hike across the common to walk their (and our) excesses off.
Ended up at the pub on the cricket pitch and had a makeshift game with the dogs fielding.
A fantastic time had by all. Dog and Dot are now crashed at my feet and having little doggy dreams.
Happy Dog Day! Off to have dreams of my own …
Sunday 17th May
Went to visit Elle, Rob and Baby Grace.
Asked Rob what he’d done with my sister - the change in her is almost incomprehensible. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking so fulfilled and relaxed. Lucky for her, she’s one of those women who pop out their babies and are instantly back in their size eights. But, aside from that, she just seems to have become a confident and calm mother overnight.
Grace lay at her breast feeding hungrily and Rob fussed about with tea and cakes. “Have you told Lib our news, Elle?” he grinned at her, obviously excited by what they had share.
Elle looked slightly sheepish and sat Grace up to wind her. “I’ve decided I’m not going back to work after all.”
Well, you could have slapped my butt and called me Charlie, as Nic is so fond of saying.
My sister, the hard nosed exec who’d bitten, scratched and clawed her way to the top, was now prepared to give it all up for her little bundle - wonders would never cease.
Told her how (genuinely) pleased I was and she continued, “I don’t want to come home to a nanny who tells me Gracie has taken her first steps or said her first word. I’ve done ‘business woman’, now it’s time to do ‘Mummy’.”
She could teach some Manor Housers a thing or two!
Spent a lovely afternoon having cuddles with Grace and changing her nappy with Max’s ‘help’. “See Mummy. I could be a really good big brother, couldn’t I?”
Agreed that he’d make a perfect older brother, whilst still trying to manage his expectations, “You’d be fantastic, Maxie, but I think Mummy might be a bit too old now so we’ll just have to make do with loving little Gracie won’t we?”
Knew in my heart that he wasn’t particularly happy with the answer but what else could I say?
Thankfully Grace helped me out by producing a timely but runny little dollop all over the changing mat.
“Oooh, gross!” Max covered his nose and mouth and heaved.
“Well Max, that’s one of the downsides to having a baby around. Sure you still want one?”
Didn’t hear his answer as he’d fled the room to tell Ned how smelly Grace was.
Monday 18th May AM
Waiting on tenterhooks to hear back from the school. They break up for half term on Friday so I’m just praying we’ll know something before then.
Strange phone conversation with Mum. Lots of the usual Bert references but also smattered with unsure (very un-Mum-like) questions like, “You do like Bert, don’t you?” and, “Do you think your father would approve?”
Can’t be certain but I think she may be up to something.
Received invite to summer cocktail party at the school next month - and just noticed, good grief, it’s free! Might push the boat out and try to find a glam charity shop special. Haven’t spoiled myself for a while so I’m sure we can spare a tenner.
Ooh, quite excited by the prospect of a little Oxfam therapy.
PM
Told Ned about the peculiar conversation with Mum. He suggested she might be thinking about remarrying.
Told him not to be so ridiculous.
Called Lou for advice. She agreed with Ned.
Told her to shut the fuck up.
Two further phone calls to Fenella and then Nic, put me in a minority of one.
Went to bed in a grump. My mother, remarry?
Surely Bert wouldn’t agree to a shenanigan-less marriage?
Tuesday 19th May
Chatting with Fenella at the school gates this afternoon when ‘Letchy Dad’ joined us on pick-up duty. “Aah, our gorgeous reps. What a treat!” and his eyes did a swift appraisal of any bits of flesh on show. “So tell me, lovely ladies, being ‘Seedlings’ reps isn’t as bad as they all make it out, is it? Of course, I wouldn’t have wanted Nerissa to take it on. What with the risk of ‘you-know-what?’” This was said with a finger to his nose and a furtive wink.
Fenella and I looked at one another, each hoping that the other had got his drift. Sadly, we were none the wiser as he excused himself to flirt shamelessly with a notorious man-eater, ‘Bikey Mummy’.
“What a strange little man!” Fenella giggled. “What on earth was that all about?”
The risk of ‘you know what’ - sounded like some dreadful Manor House curse that no one had let us in on!
Wednesday 20th May AM
Mum called at a ridiculously early hour to say she’d like to pop in on us later. “Say about six-ish? Don’t bother cooking or cleaning. We’ll be quite happy with a glass of wine and a crisp.”
Had hideous vision of Mum and Bert seductively nibbling on the same crisp and meeting in the middle for a denture clanking snog! Ugh .. put me off my Cornflakes.
Bumped into a very blotchy and puffy faced Gestapo at the school - obviously run out of Crème de la Mer and Touche Èclat. I could give her dozens of tips on cheap alternatives but can’t quite see her hitting Superdrug or eagerly collecting her Boots loyalty points.
Once home I had so many scenarios running through my head. Perhaps Mum had a serious illness with only months to live? What if they were marrying and moving to Guadeloupe or some other far-flung clime? Had to stop myself before I started to fret like Lou.
Managed to pull myself together and decided to go for my usual stress relief. Attacked an MG book and rustled up a few nibbles from some bits found in the fridge and cupboard - sadly, not an emergency pantry but a very fine cupboard nevertheless.
Skunk popped in while I was part way through my cheese straw mixing and, after washing his hands and mucking in to help, he told me he was a bit concerned about Mrs S. “Don’t get me wrong, Libby, I mean she loves Desmond and all that but he don’t seem to be enuff for her. I fink she might be getting a bit shaky, you know. She don’t even seem that bovvered about Ba’s Kitchen no more.”
Felt a bit guilty that I hadn’t noticed any decline myself but there’s just been so much going on. Reluctantly promised him I’d email Pritesh for advice.
PM
Butt slapping and calling me Charlie doesn’t even go close.
Mum and Bert are moving in together! Yep, my hussy of a mother is about to cohabit, live in sin, become a dishonest woman.
They’re both selling up and buying a flat about ten minutes walk from us. “It’ll be much handier for babysitting Max and little Gracie.” Mum seemed to think she needed to sell the idea to us. “We’ve emailed Elle and Harriet as they’re both so busy and they gave us their blessing. We just want to know that you approve.”
Tried to sound enthusiastic and not too prudi
sh when actually I’d come over all protective and wanted to say, “Hey, Bert, good enough to live with is she but not good enough to marry?”
Anyway, once they felt they’d got our OK they knocked their wine back and prepared to leave. “Off to see an obscure little French film in town and then on to a jazz club.” Couldn’t help wondering when my mother turned into Edith Piaf.
Obscure little French film, indeed?
Sounds more like a euphemism for porn, if you ask me.