by Polly James
Do brothers and sisters ever grow out of sibling rivalry? (Please God they do.)
How do you balance familial demands, within your immediate and extended family? (Haven’t mastered this one yet.)
Is the family a fixed or a mutable thing? (Note: you argue this one differently if you’re trying to justify your own divorce.)
Why are teenagers capable of such lunacy and yet of giving such sage advice on occasion? (It’s a complete mystery - unless they’re watching and learning while you think they’re glued to Facebook and the X-Box.)
Am I a bad mother?
Why do mothers always feel guilty? (It’s part of the job description.)
Why do mothers always feel responsible? (Ditto the above.)
Why can fathers sleep through everything to do with the kids? (It’s a mystery.)
Am I a bad daughter?
Why is it so hard to be sympathetic to your parents, when you’re a parent too? (Must try harder.)
Why is it so easy to forget that your parents are people, even while wishing your own children would envisage you as a human being and not just “Mum”? (See above.)
Political Issues
The Reality of Politics
To what extent does the personal affect the political, and vice versa? (Much more than you would think possible.)
Are politicians really how we envisage them? (Should they be? Can they be?)
How much power do politicians really have? (Answer: much less than they expected, or would ever acknowledge.)
Care in the community
How many people are suffering from mental illnesses, whether diagnosed or undiagnosed? (See the usual suspects for further information.)
What is their impact of the lives of others? (Let’s just say that I’d look ten years younger …)
What are the effects of people having too much time on their hands, or of living solitary lives? (De-stabilising, without a doubt.)
Are MPs policy-makers, or social workers? (In theory, a); in reality, b) - despite lacking any training in the subject.)
What are the dangers to staff working with the general public? (Under-estimated.)
Money Matters
The Gap Between Rich and Poor
How do we even know what life is like for anyone else? (We don’t.)
Is being broke a matter of perception? (The difference between “I can’t afford a holiday this year” and “there weren’t enough coins down the back of the sofa to buy a pint of milk”.)
Money
Can everyone tell your clothes have come from Primark? (Of course not. No-one here has ever been to Primark.)
Why do people assume all their friends can afford to attend weddings in far-flung and expensive locations? And why does the hen party have to be in Cuba? (What do these people earn?)
Am you a bad parent if you don’t earn enough, or are your children learning valuable life skills by having to work their vacations, and going to the local school? (Please say yes to the latter option.)
Will your son inevitably end up in a young offenders’ institute because you sent him to the local school? (Required answer: no.)
Will your daughter’s career progression be hampered by your lack of funds, despite the fact that her brain is the size of a planet? (As above.)
Getting Older
Significant Birthdays
What do they symbolise? The end of life as we know it – or a new beginning? (God, I hope the latter is true.)
Ageing
How do we hold back the years?
Is it worth the effort? (I bloody well hope so.)
Are women doomed to be replaced by someone younger? (Oh, don’t.)
At what stage do women become invisible? (It happened so suddenly, that I missed it.)
Is it really different for men? (Yes – they have all the luck. Beards hide a multitude of sins, and men are supposed to have them.)
Is hypochondria an inevitable feature of getting older? (God, I hope not.)
How do you cling on to your self-esteem? (How? How?)
Philosophical Questions
Success and Failure
What makes us a success, or not? Career? Relationships? Getting through the day? Doing it differently from your parents? All, or none of the above? (Please don’t say money or status, or a smooth forehead.)
Do others determine whether we are successful or do we decide that for ourselves? (Next question?)
Life in a Bubble
Do we ever really know what is going on in someone else’s life? (Though would we want to?)
Can we ever be sure what someone else is thinking? (Note: mind-reading can get one into trouble.)
Is life always greener on the other side? (Actually, I can’t answer this. Given that I can’t be in two places at once.)
Guilt and Innocence
What constitutes cheating? (The answer to this appears to be rather variable, depending on whether we’re talking about someone else, or oneself.)
Is guilt or innocence a matter of degree? (Um …)
Does it depend on who makes the rules? (Most things do.)
Acknowledgements
No thanks are due to the owners of the unbelievably-noisy building site at the end of my street. (Ten years to build a small estate? I’d complain to my MP if I thought it would do any good.) I do owe huge thanks, however, to those of you who were regular readers of my blog and Twitterfeed. The way you engaged with Molly’s life so wholeheartedly made writing about it much more fun than I’d expected.
Even so, I don’t think I would ever have believed that I could write a ‘proper book’ about Molly, had it not been for the incredibly generous help and encouragement of Judith O’Reilly and India Knight. I cannot thank them enough for their kindness to a stranger.
I am very grateful to the judges of the 2011 Orwell Prize for Blogs, Gaby Hinsliff and David Allen Green, for shortlisting me, as well as to Jean Seaton and Gavin Freeguard. Thanks, too, to all those who nominated and voted for me in the BOTY and Total Politics awards.
Only another writer can know what it feels like to suddenly decide, half-way through a book, that you are rubbish at writing, hate doing it, and want to run away and do something – anything – else instead. In those moments of meltdown, I’d have imploded, were it not for the helpful advice and understanding of Sue Welfare, Ben Hatch, Marika Cobbold, Harriet Cobbold Hielte and Alex Marsh. Thank you all, very much.
I also owe a considerable debt of gratitude to others in the literary profession who have helped and supported me along the way, namely Patrick Walsh; Peter Straus; Simon Trewin; Scott Pack, and the very lovely Claudia Webb.
The same goes for people from a wide variety of fields who’ve been equally generous with encouragement, practical help, or advice – and sometimes all three. A big thank you, therefore, to Sean O’Mahony; Peter Black AM; Adrian Masters; Kaliya Franklin; Fiona Laird; Lily Bradic, Damian Greef; Jo and Phil Crocker; Tim O’Shea; Christopher Tuckett, Julia Kitt; Elspeth Barker; Ashley Stokes; George Maclennan; Mischa Hiller, Becke Parker, Maria Roberts, Rachel Trezise, Andrew Mackey, Charles Christian and Sally Willcox; as well as various councillors, MPs and their staff.
A number of journalists, bloggers and tweeters attempted to ‘out’ me, but without success (which must mean they weren’t really trying). I’m grateful to them for being so good-humoured about it, anyway – and for continuing to take an interest in what Molly has to say. Thanks, too, to FleetStreetFox, Kit Lovelace, and Biscuit and Toast of the Wed or Dead Wager for inviting me to join ‘Bloggers Anonymous’, and for making the early days of the blog far less lonely, and a lot more fun.
I’m extremely grateful to my agent, Becky Thomas at Fox Mason, for always replying to me faster than the speed of sound, sometimes even in the middle of the night; and to my wonderful editor, LydiaVassar-Smith, for her many improvements to my original manuscript. Sincere thanks are also due to Claire Bord and the rest of the Avon team (both for their enthusiasm for the characters I create
d, and the care that they have taken in publishing my book), as well as to Jo and Sabah at Light Brigade, and Rhian McKay.
Last, but definitely not least, I owe members of my family, big-time: my mum, Jenny, and step-father, Dave, for their generosity in helping me try to realise my long-held but previously half-arsed dream of becoming a writer; and my husband and children, for the neglect they’ve suffered during the attempt.
Footnotes
Chapter One: May
fn1 ConDem Coalition: Government cobbled together, during seemingly endless back-room dealings between David ‘Call Me Dave’ Cameron (Conservative), and Nick Clegg (Liberal Democrat). Also known as ‘All Things To All Men Clegg’ according to The Boss, who is not Nick’s biggest fan.
fn2 Gordy: Greg’s and my name for Gordon Brown, also known as ‘that idiot’ if you listen to The Boss. Ex-Prime Minister (as of today) and ex-Chancellor of the Exchequer; and not exactly an asset during election campaigns.
fn3 Her Majesty’s Official Opposition: Usually the political party which wins the second-largest number of seats in a general election, and whose members sit opposite the governing party in the House of Commons. Don’t ask me to explain how the LibDems won far fewer seats than Labour and yet ended up helping to run the country. The Boss can’t get over that.
fn4 Senior caseworker: If you contact your MP about anything, it’ll be someone like me who decides what needs to be done, and then does it – while giving the MP all the credit and/or taking most of the blame. The ‘senior’ bit means handling the ‘complex’ cases. (Substitute ‘nightmare’ for ‘complex’ and you’ve got the picture.)
fn5 Furniture inspector: Three jobs in one, not that you’d think so from the salary. One minute Max is selling furniture, the next he’s hurtling round to a customer’s house to deal with a complaint, or to repair a faulty sofa. It’s probably the only job that involves crawling around on the floor wielding power tools while dressed in a suit. (Costs a fortune in dry-cleaning, too.)
fn6 ISP: For other computing incompetents like Dad, an ISP is an Internet Service Provider. If you don’t have one, it’s a bit like trying to use your phone when you haven’t signed up with a phone company, i.e. futile.
fn7 House: One way of referring to the House of Commons, which is by far the best place to keep MPs – as far as constituency staff are concerned.
fn8 The ‘wrong’ side of the Commons Chamber: The government sits on the benches to the right of the Speaker of the House of Commons, so when a party loses an election, they have to switch sides from right to left. The Boss isn’t enjoying being on the left half as much as his political views might suggest.
fn9 Portcullis House, also known as PCH: A fancy new building to house MPs and their staff, after they ran out of space in the Palace of Westminster. The Boss feels very cheated to have been allocated a ‘pathetically small’ office in PCH, and retains a fondness for the additional leg-room offered by his old office in the HOC. Some people are never satisfied.
fn10 HOC: Usual way staff refer to the House of Commons in writing, for example in diary entries, such as, ‘Boss to HOC today. TG.’ (TG stands for ‘thank God’, though The Boss is unaware of that.)
fn11 Question Time, also known as QT: Weekly BBC television programme in which various ministers and MPs debate the hot political issues of the day. Or not. Compulsory viewing for MPs’ staff, as all constituents watch it and want to discuss its high and low points the following morning. Usually forewarned is forearmed.
fn12 The Oprah room: The political equivalent of a green room, though ours is a shade of bilious yellow. (The Boss chose the paint, which proves he’s colour blind, as if you couldn’t already tell that from his hair.) It’s supposedly used for holding informal meetings with journalists, lobbyists and the occasional sane constituent. Supposedly.
fn13 Dave Blancmange Face: Connie’s name for David Cameron. What it lacks in respect for one’s elders, it makes up for in accuracy, or so Max claims.
fn14 IPSA: Independent Parliamentary Standards Authority, set up in the wake of the MPs’ expenses scandal, with the sole purpose of making life difficult, according to The Boss.
fn15 A&E: Accident and Emergency, the equivalent of a home-from-home for me, what with a colleague like Greg and a son like Josh.
fn16 Conference: The Labour Party Conference/bunfight/scene of some of The Boss’ worst social faux pas.
Chapter Two: June
fn1 PMQs: For those of you lucky enough to be uninitiated, this stands for Prime Minister’s Questions. Misleading, as the Prime Minister (PM) doesn’t get to ask any questions, other than rhetorical ones. Instead, his acolytes ask him prepared questions along the lines of, “Would the PM agree that he is the best thing to happen to the country since sliced bread?” while the opposition ask him the most awkward ones they can think of, in an often-successful effort to make him look stupid.
fn2 141: UK number to dial, prior to the rest of someone’s phone number, if you don’t want them to be able to identify yours. An absolutely vital service for those whose names are Greg or Josh.
fn3 DEFRA: Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs. Also known as ‘the kiss of death to political ambition’ by Greg, who doesn’t believe anything much happens in the country, other than the chasing of foxes by ‘half-crazed posh people, wearing red coats’.
fn4 Deepwater oil spill: Disaster in the Gulf of Mexico, described by Johnny as “that massive cock-up”, but only off the record, of course. It started back in April, when the Deepwater Horizon oil rig exploded and then sank, killing eleven people, and gallons of oil are still gushing into the ocean now, in June.
fn5 GC: General Committee, regular meeting of local Labour Party big-hitters, to whom The Boss has to present his GC report, explaining what he’s been up to at Westminster. Usually drafted on a napkin from the buffet car during Andrew’s journey home on Thursday evenings, and then given to me to decipher, completely re-write to remove all references to jollies, and then pass to Party staff to print and disseminate at the start of the meeting.
fn6 CRB check: Vetting procedure carried out by the Criminal Records Bureau. Far too slowly, according to Greg, who has a problem with deferred gratification of any kind.
fn7 PPE: Politics, Philosophy and Economics. De rigueur combination for would-be politicians, in these days of professional MPs. Or so Greg says.
fn8 ABH: Actual Bodily Harm. Does what it says on the tin.
Chapter Three: July
fn1 Chief Whip: Not what you may be thinking, having read tabloid reports into the sexual proclivities of some MPs, but the person responsible for Party discipline. Also known as ‘the enforcer’ by The Boss.
fn2 Recess: Summer Recess is when constituency staff are most likely to become suicidal. This is not the obverse of Seasonal Affective Disorder, but is directly linked to the fact that Parliament takes a long break in the summer, during which time MPs tend to spend more time in their constituencies.
fn3 Extreme hoovering is an actual sport, believe it or not. I do – now – because Josh made me look at endless video evidence on YouTube. It’s still madness, though.
fn4 WriteToThem.com: Website which documents the time MPs’ office staff take to respond to constituents’ enquiries. It makes no allowance for traumatic incidents, or whether the enquiries are insane or not.
fn5 County Hall: Home of the now-defunct GLC (Greater London Council), where The Boss’ hero, Ken Livingstone, held sway. Now home to various attractions, including an aquarium (maybe as a nod to Ken’s fondness for newts), and the five-star Marriott Hotel. Oh, and a Premier Inn. Maybe I should suggest that to Johnny. Let him see how the other half lives.
Chapter Four: August
fn1 1471: UK telephone number to phone in order to identify the last person to call you. Mum uses it a lot, as the voicemail revolution has apparently passed her by.
fn2 Cherchez la femme: Literally, ‘Look for the woman’ in French. Difficult to know which woman, though, when so
many of them seem to find Andrew irresistible. Somewhat inexplicably, unless painted-on hair is a fetish now.
fn3 30 Berlusconi: Silvio Berlusconi, ex-Prime Minister of Italy (on several occasions), with what has been described as a ‘waxing and waning hairline’, which may or may not owe its appearance to the use of a coloured spray to fill in gaps. Also known as The Boss’ ‘guru of style’ by Greg.
fn4 Neet: Not in Education, Employment or Training, i.e. a total write-off. (According to Greg. Oh, and Connie.)
fn5 CSA: Child Support Agency, responsible for gathering money owed as maintenance (or alimony). Even less effective than certain MPs, according to some constituents. Too effective, according to others.
Chapter Five: September
fn1 The Thai for ‘bring me my slippers’ is, according to Google Translate, or, read phonetically: ’Nǎ rxngthêã tæa k hxng c c .’
fn2 Bonjour. Je m’appelle Marie-Louise. Pouvez-vous m’aider, s’il vous plaît?: Hello, my name is Marie-Louise. Could you help me, please? (She asked for that.)
fn3 Red Ed: Ed Miliband, now leader of the Labour Party, after stabbing his brother in the back according to Greg, or striking a blow for socialism according to The Boss. Also known as Gromit by Mum, who tends to get him and Wallace muddled up.
Chapter Six: October
fn1 Chuggers: Charity muggers, according to Josh, and especially to Connie, who is always being conned into setting up direct debits to give them more money than she can afford. Probably our fault for choosing her name.
fn2 The Stanford Prison Experiment: A psychological experiment carried out at Stanford University, which seemed to prove that we all have it in us to become completely power-mad. Some of us more than others, I suspect.