What have I missed?

We’re back. Yesterday actually, to a freezing cold house and a note from Jack Next Door telling us that he couldn’t work our heating or hot water. Amelia had obviously been on the premises at some point because the fridge was full (of food that I don’t buy, let alone eat), my surfaces were gleaming and the Dyson stood arrogantly on the upstairs landing. There was also a casserole dish and a note from said mother in law which read “I’ve made you a beef casserole, I know that David enjoys these and I know that you don’t like cooking when you’re on holiday”. Mac came joyously down the stairs with a packet of Haribo and a six pack of pickled onion Monster Munch that had been “left” in his bedroom and David emitted cries of glee when he found a lardy cake in the cupboard.

I’ve missed a lot in The Avenue according to Jane Opposite who appeared on my doorstep with gossip and a request to borrow some rice. “That Belinda Hall woman has got the OAPs sewn up you know, she’s got different colour shopping lists for each one and goes out every day to either Morrison’s or Asda. Marj is spitting feathers!”. Marjorie is indeed not happy about That Woman and Her Interference and is redoubling her efforts into arranging an outing for The Avenue. I know this because she rang just as Ocean’s 13 was about to start and I made David tell her I was already asleep and to take a message.

Lydia and The Bump are doing well – she’s addicted to cream crackers spread with Nutella which, as cravings go, isn’t that bad. “Makes me fart though” she mused this morning when she rang to see how the holiday was. “I spend each and every night with my bum hanging out of the duvet!” and, she admitted, it hasn’t stopped Matt constantly asking her to make an honest man of him. “But do I want to leap out of the frying pan and into the fire?” she asked. I pointed out that, in her current condition, she’s already dipped a toe into a saucepan and arranged to meet her for lunch on Thursday.

Janey and Scarlett have just left and I’m finally breathing and trying to take in all that’s been thrown at me in under 24 hours including the fact that Janey is, as she put it, “up the duff”. She’s quite pleased she said, because with two children under five “Darren won’t be able to say no to me having a nanny!”. Darren, the poor mans David Beckham, scored a goal for his amateur football team on Saturday and is convinced that “the bloke in the stands wearing a Tottenham scarf” is a scout for the Premiership club and it’ll only “be a matter of time before I’m rubbing shoulders with all the top stars”. Janey rolled her eyes and agreed with me that he was reading too much into it. “I said to him, what if it were just a bloke who supports Spurs?” she said, giving Scarlett a piece of French stick to gnaw on. “It’s not that I mind being pregnant at all” she went on “It’s just that I cover myself in Bio oil and Daz can’t get hold of me”. Surely that that would be a bonus?

It certainly would be for Bea who is dreading Scarlett’s forthcoming christening. My sister has recently got a bonus for her “sterling work” which she’s quite pleased about because it means she’s getting money just for sending “wonderfully descriptive emails” to her family and friends. I’ve reproduced part of the one waiting for me in my inbox yesterday.

Darling girl, I’m so sorry I couldn’t take your call earlier – I was dictating to my PA at the time and I feared that our conversation would end up as part of the weekly departmental report. The silly girl had already had to scratch half of what she’d written: I had given my lunch request to Amanda on Reception and she’d written it all down. I’m sure the Head Honcho would have been fascinated to read that I had requested sushi and sparkling water!

I have grave misgivings about the forthcoming christening – I shall attend the church but not, I’m afraid to say, the “do” afterwards. The thought of eating poorly cooked, unimaginatively chosen buffet food is making my stomach churn. I have tried to insist that she come to you for help but she’s insistent that Aunt Ivy and her friends are more than capable as it will only be “a few sausage rolls and things on sticks”. Darling, promise me you’ll eat a hearty breakfast on the seventh and steer clear of all things reheated?

I trust that she has chosen suitable godparents for the poor child. I’m struggling with the fact that her moral and spiritual welfare are being handed over to someone called Baz, Tel, Mick or, what was the name of that rather large gentleman that belched the alphabet at their wedding? Cockle? And heaven forbid the poor little angel if she only has the likes of Toria and the cackling harpies to turn to for guidance. I shudder to think how she’ll turn out. I only have to look at our own precious babies to realise how fortunate we are.

Darling, I must close now. On The Point of Anorexia Now Au Pair has developed an aversion to surfing on-line, she’s been reading about viruses and doesn’t want to catch anything so I have to do the Ocado shopping before my 3pm meeting. Thank God it’s Friday as I finish at 3.30pm!

Your loving sister xox

I replied with this:

Dear Bea

Scarlett’s godparents are to be Luce and Toria and the “rather large gentleman” who is called, not Cockle, but Bollock. On account of him having just the one.

With love
Your sister xx