Mid-Life Crisis

by T. Jessop

  Saturday 8th September 2014

  Paul’s 38th birthday.

  Paul arrived here Friday around six, and by seven the boys were all gone, to a boxing match. We were all round Abigail’s, opted for takeaway after we were offered mung beans and an assortment of nuts.

  Tonight sees the boys at the inevitable Flannigan’s, which is handy as I’ve got shitloads to get ready for tomorrow’s BBQ.

  Monday 10th September 2014

  Paul left early for Scotland yesterday. Me and Chris went to Sunday market. By the time we got back Joe already had the BBQ going. I was in the kitchen when Connor flew through the door screeching, ‘Nanny, there’s a shicken in the garden!’Walking with him hanging off my leg I proceeded to the garden to see a crow devouring the hot dog Connor had lobbed at its head on his hasty departure.

  Joe says Julie’s like burnt toast: brunette on the outside and blonde in the middle.

  Joe told me he’s having the day off tomorrow, wants to sort out the conifers. I reminded him that we pay someone for that and he said, ‘Yeah, and he’s doing a shit job of it. ‘Shook me a little: has someone said something? All I did was watch him. Bloody hell. xx

  Tuesday 11th September 2014

  Before long Accident and Emergency will be naming a wing after us, as we have again spent the day there today. It seems I was innocent after all: Joe hadn’t got rid of the conifer guy because of jealousy, it’s a lot simpler. Joe being tighter than a duck’s arse refused to pay £40 to trim the trees, felt that was a bit steep. So set up the stepladder and climbed from that into the trees: 18 stone man (says he isn’t) trying to walk on feeble decaying branches was always gonna spell danger. There was a crack and Joe swiftly vanished from view, having shot downwards screaming (denied vehemently).A rogue stick had wedged itself up his trouser leg and stuck into his flesh. I had to saw him out. All the time wary of the glances over the fence from neighbours, confused as to why I’m sawing like a madman with tears streaming down my cheeks, and the foulest language emanating from the shuddering foliage. Six stitches and £40 later all is as it should be. Thus clearly proving if it has tyres or testicles you’re gonna have trouble with it.

  Thursday 13th September 2014

  Daisy’s 3rd birthday.

  Got to be at Andy’s for four, for Daisy’s party, which gave me plenty of time to get to the library as Sam has decided he is now a vegetarian. So that’s where I spent my afternoon, consulting the many varieties of vegetarianism. Left having given myself brain ache. I arrived at the party armed with pages of notes and began bleating off the different varieties so I could establish which type Sam was. He just rolled his eyes at me and said, ‘Nan, if it’s got a face I aint eating it.’

  Friday 14th September 2014

  Joe stitches out 10am.

  Girls’ night here.

  Mum rang earlier from the caravan. The call lasted about an hour; think it was to release tension as she knew Chris was on the way for the weekend. Joe kept huffing and looking at the clock, which was annoying. It’s no secret I can talk on the phone for hours: what woman can’t? We cover anything to everyone, and this eludes Joe. For him a call is, ‘Hello. Yeah. OK. Better go, see ya.’ To him, if someone calls with a question, answer it and ta ra. Der... it’s called a conversation. Piss off moaning about me, Billy No Mates.

  Sunday 16th September 2014

  Bread, seriously! You remove it from the packet, check it all over and spy not a speck of blue in sight, give it a good sniff, perfect. Make the sarnie, and as soon as you’ve finished eating the first half your taste buds are engulfed in the essence of dirt with a dewy hue. You feel you must have missed something that only a microscope could have detected, but yet on turning over the remaining half the entire thing is aquamarine. WTF? Does it react with the atmosphere, or what?

  Monday 17th September 2014

  Teacher Training Day.

  Teacher Training Day today, which means the kids are off school, so we thought it’d be fun to take them to the forest. Do not think for one minute that anything you’ve ever told kids sinks in. A lovely serene day in the forest quickly turned to hell as Sam, unbeknown to any of us, had spotted and retrieved a leather bag from the reeds at the side of the river. In what was like a scene from Chariots of Fire I ran for what seemed a very slow lifetime towards Sam, shouting, ‘Noo, don’t open it!’Too late. As I skidded to a halt crashing into a wall of stench I spied through the open zipper what I suspected it was gonna be: a dead cat. Sam’s nostrils expanded by a foot as he caught the full waft, then heaved his guts up. Daisy started crying, and everyone passing the once beautiful spot kept checking the soles of their shoes, soon realising what it was, shouted over, ‘Ooh, you didn’t wanna be looking in that. ‘No shit, Sherlock. We quickly found the park keeper, gave him the bag and scuttled off. The car was parked half a mile away and I could still smell death as we drove off.

  Chris said she keeps napping. The doctor was fool enough to say perhaps your blood sugar is low; she now believes she must be borderline diabetic.

  Tuesday 18th September 2014

  Shopping.

  Another thing about telephones ‒ and this is mainly a male crime ‒ is I’ve noticed ‘the telephone voice’. Why do people feel they have to speak in a creepy, almost apologetic tone? I don’t do it. Weirdo’s.

  Chris was at the docs again today. Threw me a bit: thought I’d lost a day. Her headache is back and, given the recent other stuff, she thinks her tumour has grown.

  Tony, cooking tomato soup, knocks the pan over, tipping the rather warm substance which lands on the cat from the waist down. The cat immediately straightens its legs out in front of itself and glides at rapid speed around the carpet like a hovercraft, lol. This is why I have so many pairs of knickers, ha hee.

  Thursday 20th September 2014

  Why is it that when cracks appear in a marriage, women will always attempt to talk to the husband, but because it’s more the way you’re feeling rather than thinking, you have to try and explain it the best way possible. Admittedly, in a man’s defence, it does come out all confusing, but instead of tuning in and listening properly he will just say, ‘So you want to leave, then.’ See, it’s that male black and white thinking again ‒ black or white stay or go ‒ instead of our grey area that means, ‘I want to stay but things need sorting out.’

  This ignorance doesn’t just apply to their spouse, they exhibit it toward the kids as well. For example, if one of them has sneaked a couple of quid out your purse, without question he will flip his lid, call them thieving bastards, verbally beat them down for hours. Whereas a female will more than likely have a go at them but will stop and ask why, as there may have been an underlying reason that caused them to steal from you. Must be very simple in a man’s head.

  Saturday 22nd September 2014

  Leg wax 2pm.

  Attended the traditional Harvest Festival at Sam’s school yesterday and noticed that the legendary ‘fringe by Mum ‘still lives on! Cut 3 inches above the eyebrows; not a good look in any decade. I wonder if this crime is committed by the same mothers who buy the school uniform that lasts three years? Do they think they’ll grow into the fringe? pml, xx

  Cooker died last night, have ordered a new one. I’ve been assured new one will be delivered and fitted in two days. Call me cynical, but having paid for express delivery, like a fool, I know I’m living in false hope that it actually means something.

  Sunday 23rd September 2014

  Me and Joe were playing on the floor with Daisy. She wanted a drink so I reached out my arms and told her to help me up. Having risen with ease to a standing position Joe reached out, calling rather pathetically, ‘What about me?’, to which she answered with a sigh, ‘I can’t, Granddad, you’re too fat. ‘Mate, killed by a three-year-old.

  Joe’s really not having a good day, he just had the fright of his life, lol, pml. We were discussing the legendary ‘bogey man
‘and we both agreed that no parent we’ve ever heard of has ever told a child that the bogey man will get you on the stairs, either chasing you up or on your way down. Yet we all believe that no sooner does your foot touch the first step than the hair on your neck stands up and the countdown begins, giving us ten seconds ‒ no more, no less ‒ to reach either the top or the bottom. Having had the kids round earlier we’d put up the stair gate. As we ascended the stairs for bed, Joe lifted the gate to bring it up, without his knowledge the middle section was unlocked and swung inwards, and the cold hard metal pushed into his lower back, he screamed (says he didn’t) then exhaled a ooh with a clear look of fear in his eyes. Oh, how I’m laughing right now. If looks could kill… He said it was a heart-stopper as it had felt like an icy finger poking him, lol. Don’t matter how old we get, we clearly still need to leg it on the staircase.

  Monday 24th September 2014

  Joe football.

  Shopping.

  Could clearly sense Joe’s apprehension on the stairs tonight, especially when I’m sure I heard him counting. I was only halfway up when I thought I heard him mumble ‘Six’ behind me, which was followed closely by, ‘Hurry up, for fuck’s sake.’ Oh dear I shall surely laugh myself to death. Bless him, may fold under questioning. xx

  Tuesday 25th September 2014

  How disgusting is peanut butter? Peanuts smell like old farts at the best of times, but then it’s mixed to a texture of shit. Not a fan, lol.

  Wednesday 26th September 2014

  Mutley vets 10am.

  Love bites: how cool do youngsters think they are when they parade theirs about? Shows the extent of their self-respect, does it not? Bit harsh: we’ve all been there, lol. The ones that are repulsive have got to be the 30-plus group: grow up, for fuck’s sake.

  Thursday 27th September 2014

  George 71st birthday.

  Window cleaner.

  Prostitution is probably the oldest occupation and still the most frowned-upon profession. The way I see it, it’s obviously here to stay, so let’s help them out. Legalise it, give them somewhere safe to work, with security and health screening. Let them provide the service safely; they’re gonna anyway. You see, all the ones against them who think they’re depraved individuals who are the scourge of society are very naive. These people should open their eyes to a few facts: most prostitutes are not performing sadistic, depraved sexual favours for these men that we ourselves wouldn’t take part in at home, it’s usually a lot more basic than that.

  Mate, I’m sympathising with prostitutes now; what’s going on with me?

  Friday 28th September 2014

  Girls’ night Abigail’s.

  Men and women should never go shopping together, seriously Joe!‘Why would you need another pair of shoes? You clearly have years left in your others.’ Not need, pal, want. Quite funny really, seeing as its most of us wives that buy the old man’s clothing, which means his wardrobe is bulging and so is his shoe cupboard with his ten pairs of boots, barely worn, and six different pairs of trainers. Bloody hypocrite.

  Saturday 29th September 2014

  No sign of the gas engineer yet but the new cooker has turned up today, hooray! Now all we need to do is get it fitted and put the kitchen back together.

  Monday 1st October 2014

  Joe football.

  Working down mines sixty hours a week, laying railroads across deserts? Not a touch on the stress and physical exhaustion inflicted by trying to dress a one-year-old into a snowsuit. When or even if you get one foot in, it’s accompanied by the lining of the leg hanging out the end. After much scraping, tugging and rolling the poor girl this way and that, sweating enough to fry chips, you eventually get the arms in. More pulling is required as now the slippery lining is seeping from every cuff, causing the poor little bugger to stoop like a hunchback. By now Rosie has had enough and is refusing to go in the buggy. She starts imitating a cat that don’t wanna be put into a box: frozen star jump, head thrown back. I now have to force the demon down with one knee across her lap, simultaneously prising both hands from the sides, and at the speed of light put together and clip the harness, trapping the skin of two fingers. This could be an Olympic sport; not for the faint-hearted, it’s a cross between a marathon and going ten rounds with Stone Cold Steve Austin. Incidentally, the latter I’d love to do.

  Tuesday 2nd October 2014

  Shopping.

  Apparently some men do clean and tidy, not only to a woman’s standard but even further; so extreme that in fact the house is no longer a home but a show house. Lies.

  Thursday 4th October 2014

  Had a spiffing afternoon. Chris had to go to hospital and have a camera up her arse and down the throat; can only presume they wiped it after the first one, lol. The official results will be at our doctors in a week but the consultant who performed the procedure said from what he could see there was nothing to worry about. He did say to Chris there was a lot of faeces in the bowel and said she should eat more fibre. He’s got seven years at medical school and a degree to point out what we all knew, which is that Chris is full of shit.

  Saturday 6th October 2014

  Poker night.

  Shopping.

  Friday morning I had to take Chris shopping for fibrous foods, as I knew in my heart we’d find her sprinkling bits of wool on her dinner. Cannot remember much about Penny’s last night: as Chris began the blow-by-blow details of her endoscopic adventure I rapidly consumed a bottle of wine, vaguely hearing the sounds of ‘Errgh ‘followed by gagging, until I happily lost the ability to speak and Joe came and got me.

  Arhh! Men. Why do they constantly go on about all the ‘unnecessary extras’ we’re putting in the trolley whenever we go shopping? No matter how many times I say ‘The kids might like it’ or ‘It might be nice to try something different’, I always have to listen to him moaning and huffing. Yet I can guarantee Joe will be the first in the fridge later, Greeding it all.

  Monday 8th October 2014

  Tramps: every borough has one, everybody knows them by name ‒ usually George. Apart from the similarities shared by all, i.e. obvious wafts of pissy drawers and dirt, they all have a limp. I’m not talking about the type me and Julie had a run in with, technically they’re not tramps, just piss heads. So I was saddened to hear that our local tramp was found murdered. How low do you have to be?

  Soon dragged back into the real world: Chris, Monday, doctors. The back pain she keeps getting has somehow convinced her that whatever was in her stomach has now spread to her spine. Lol, she don’t have one.

  Small consolation: it’s Abigail’s 44th birthday tomorrow, she’s having a BBQ. Virgil! Mate, bloody hell.

  Wednesday 10th October 2014

  Hairdresser 5pm.

  Book another blood test.

  Managed to avoid any direct conversation with Virgil last night.

  Receptionists! Not office girls, but the miserable bastards that work at doctors surgeries or hospitals. Who the hell do these women think they are? Whatever need for treatment is never good enough in their eyes. I rang the surgery was greeted with a ‘What do you want?’ tone. Der, to see a doctor. It’s bad enough trying tell me there’s no available appointments for the next five years, until insisted, when she followed up with, ‘Oh,I can fit you in. ‘As if this hadn’t narked me enough she uttered the immortal words, ‘What is it for?’Somebody please explain why patient confidentiality is paramount in their job. Why, then, are these positions held by nosey bastards? I replied, ‘Are you a qualified GP?’‘What’s that?’‘No? Then mind your own business.’

  Having got an appointment for ten, I arrived at the surgery and I can see her putting my face to the voice on the phone earlier. She gives me a snotty sneer from behind her counter, blatantly ignores me, pretending to type on her keyboard, then took another call.,Mate,how I resisted the urge not to reach over the counter and wipe the smug look off her
face. Stopped only by the strategically placed sign warning that ‘Violence towards members of staff will not be tolerated and you will be prosecuted’. Gonna be honest, I did ponder what the charge would be for one quick smack in the mouth.

  Hospital A&E are the best place to find the worst form of these birds. I can understand that some days must be really busy, and yes, maybe a lot of casualties have self-inflicted injuries through nothing more than their own stupidity, but again, what the hell has it got to do with these women? How busy can the job really get? They sit on their arse tapping info into a computer, then tell you to follow a coloured line on the floor. They work in a hospital, for fuck’s sake: what did they expect, that no one would be ignorant enough to turn up and want to be treated? They don’t intimidate or impress me, but I’ve witnessed them have such a belittling effect on some people they’ve practically apologised for needing medical assistance. This being the reason I behaved myself at the doctors this morning.

  The day that Sam fell out the tree and put his teeth through his lip, all of us rushed to the hospital. Both Sam and Jessica were covered in blood, crying, others in the queue ushered them to the front where the receptionist looked Jess up and down and in a snide tone said, ‘Hmm, how did this happen?’I quickly took over ushering Jess to the first doctor I saw walk past, went back to the desk and gave her something to think about, much to the cheers of everyone else. This is why they get verbally abused, and sometimes assaulted.