…..a new experience! Mac has a girlfriend. He was suspiciously keen to get to nursery today (he usually has to be cajoled out of the door) and was in fact waiting for me to join him at the door. I asked him what was so special about today. He wouldn’t look me in the eye and just said “come on Mummy!”. It all became clear when we reached the nursery. A pretty little young thing with blonde hair and blue eyes was kicking her heels just inside the gate, scuffing her sandaled feet. If she had been wearing a watch she would have been checking it continuously. Mac positively bounded through the gate. “Hello Helen” he said shyly. “Hello Mackenzie” she lisped. Both gazed at their feet in a moony fashion. A strikingly pretty woman held out her hand to me and introduced herself as, Judy, Helen’s mum. The bell rang, signalling that all stragglers should make their way to their class lines. Both Helen and Mac skipped off with barely a wave in our direction. Helen, said Judy, had done nothing but talk about Mac last night. “Young love” she sighed as she clambered into a shiny Mini. Young love indeed. I had sudden visions of Helen and Mac standing in front of a vicar, before moving suddenly to a maternity ward where Helen was holding out a bouncing baby………dear God. Where is the time going?
…….expensive! Janey and Darren have chosen their wedding rings – Janey emailed me a picture of them with the words “fab aren’t they! They’re almost quite similar to Posh and Becks’!” Fab. Hm. Gold and chunky with sparkling jewels. Vulgar is the word I’d choose. David came up with “ostentatious”. Charlie – when I forwarded Janey’s email onto her – came back with “dear me, they’ll need a crane to winch them on”. Bea recoiled in horror – “they didn’t get those monstrosities from Boodles!”
Because I didn’t respond immediately with gushing comments, Janey rang me. I couldn’t honestly tell her what I thought so I fudged it a bit by saying “mm, very sparkly”. She seemed happy with that and launched into the tale of her lovely romantic weekend with her husband to be. On Friday night they’d dined by the riverside at Butlers Wharf, toasting each other with sparkling rose wine. On Saturday Janey was woken – not by Aunt Ivy coughing her guts up after her first cigarette of the day as usual – but by Darren murmuring sweetly into her ear via mobile phone, telling her where to meet him and at what time. The rest of the day was spent on a pleasure cruise up the Thames to Hampton Court and back before he whisked her back to his empty house (his housemates having been told to b*gger off for the night) and proceeded to “woo her” (Janey can be very coy at times) in every room of the house and the garden. She said she woke up on Sunday morning “freezing her nawks off” (she can also be dead common) and being leered at by Pervy Peter the next door neighbour. The rest of the day was spent in Darren’s Queen-sized bed discussing honeymoon destinations and looking at house details.
Hm. Not much romance to my weekend. David was asleep before his head hit the pillow on Friday, Saturday night I was up with Middle Dog who had an alarming case of the trots – at both ends. Sunday night was vaguely romantic: I rewarded David for finding my lost book but, as I had allowed myself to get too carried away by the sheer pleasure of re-re-reading a Martina Cole classic, my mind was wandering during his best efforts.
…..painful when it’s over. Lydia has started packing. She’s borrowed three of our suitcases. She says she keeps having to stop to blow her nose and wipe her tears away. I’ve offered to help and will be transferring stuff to the tip tomorrow. She’s being amazingly brave – Mike is keeping his distance but I kept seeing Susan wandering up and down the road, peering into the house. I don’t think either of them saw the furniture go into storage yesterday but they’re obviously dead keen on finding out what’s going on. Susan hijacked me as I walked past her house on my way back from Ayres this morning and asked me in such a round-about, convoluted way what was happening “in my life and stuff”. I told her I was arranging my cousin’s wedding and arranging a little intimate gathering for Friday evening. I felt a bit mean actually – her face lit up (I suspect she doesn’t have many friends in The Avenue, if at all) but fell as I said “must dash, having coffee with Lydia” and strode off clutching my Danish pastries.
Lydia allowed herself a small smile when I told her and deliberated what to do with her wedding album. “Take it, give it to him, burn it or bin it?” she said before bursting into tears. We’ve agreed she should take it with her and then, if she felt suitably aggrieved in the future, she could burn it then. “All I wanted” she said as she shoved it at the bottom of a box and stuck a load of framed pictures on top “was to be married and have babies. He’s going to marry her you know, the minute the divorce comes through.” She cheered up when Matthew arrived with black sacks, Flash Liquid and two massive pizzas. We lolled around eating them and discussing Friday night which has now turned into a Cocktail Evening of epic proportions. Matt ruffled my hair, called me his evil stepmother because I wouldn’t lend him £20 and told me leave it all to him. “You do the food, I’ll do the booze” he said, winking at Lydia. Such a lovely boy, if Mac grows up like his big brother, I’ll be happy.
….what I’ve got. David arrived home tonight looking shattered – his boss is very demanding and is setting impossible targets so he came home to sulk. I felt bad for not being a very attentive wife (no dinner on, nothing even planned and I looked and felt a mess), for being sad at Lydia leaving and grumpy because his mother was coming and just sat morosely at the table as he made his own cup of tea. “Takeaway tonight?” he said as he sat opposite me, rubbing his eyes and passing me a custard cream to dunk in his tea. I cheered up: no cooking, no washing up and beef with mixed vegetables! “There’s a menu for that new place in the boot of the car – be a love and go and get it for me?” he said, sliding me his keys. Instantly grumpy again I slouched out to the BMW like a truculent teenager and zapped the boot open. The smell of roses and freesias hit me as I gazed down at the most gorgeous bouquet that took up most of the boot space. David and Mac were at the doorway, both grinning. “We love you!” they chorused.