This is 50 Shades, tired and wired mum style …

Christian watched Anastasia intently: “Battenburg?”Anastasia looked startled. “Damn you Christian”, she thought. Yesterday, it had been Apple turnover and a quick Florentine topped off with a Pineapple upside down cake. The dizziness had been unsettling but this was raising the stakes.”What are you thinking Anastasia?” Christian stared straight into her eyes.

“It’s just everything’s changed”, she faltered. “Sharing a ‘Paris-Brest’ was …. unexpected”.

“It was only a ‘Paris-Brest’!” said Christian frustratedly.

“I know but we were in the bank Christian! The woman at the cash-till was gaping so much she trapped her fingers in the till”.

Anastasia paused then continued, “the vanilla cheesecake was okay, I mean I’d have preferred to use a plate but at least your foot was clean.”

“Vanilla cheesecake with strawberry topping Anastasia” he corrected her.

“Yes Christian, but it was vanilla! In essence, it was vanilla!”

He looked uncomfortable.

Anastasia liked it when he looked uncomfortable. She remembered the weekend before; how could she forget, the banana tarte tatin, the spiced apple muffin cake with (she took a deep breath) pecan streusel topping.

And it had all started so innocently. She could remember clearly that first meeting when he’d asked her if she’d wanted some “low-fat moist carrot cake”. Yes, it was something about the way he’d said that word …. slow, drawn out … that word, carrot.

She held her ground. “I’ve altered the contract Christian” she pushed the papers towards him. “I refuse to eat two cakes at one time …ever, and I’ve deleted the bit about a “3 layer wafer with Ken from next door”. I’ve put a line through the bit about the chocolate eclair/ miniature flapjack combo and no, I don’t want to be pelted by cookie dough from a great height. Finally, I refuse to have a lemon meringue pie thrown in my face on a regular basis.”

Christian paced the floor. “Ok Anastasia. You drive a hard bargain. Liquour Mille-Feuilles?”

Anastasia, “You disgust me Christian!”

Christian looked confused. “Grand Marnier Mille-Feuilles, I thought you loved them?”

Anastasia “Er, yes .. I do.” Anastasia chastised herself.

He softened. “Have you recovered from the jam roly-poly?”
“Yes” Anastasia smiled “I can barely feel the pin they had to put in my dislocated hip”.

END OF CHAPTER

Talk at Little Ditchling JMI is all about the impending school trip to Boulogne. Virginia, the headmistress declared pompously “this is a wonderful chance for our 10 year olds to learn about France and it’s magnificent culture!”; but we all know it’s a chance for the teachers to go on a booze-fest and for Mr Timpson to practise his pencil control on Miss Radcliffe. No, it’s not gone unnoticed that he looks like he’s about to spontaneously combust when he’s in her presence!

Poor Mr Timpson, a 40 year old non-descript seems to latch onto pert 30 something teachers who go weak at the sight of a man who looks like a chipmunk. To be fair, the rumours last year were never substantiated. Mr Timpson and Mrs Alcock, the larger than life Year 2 teacher had apparently been found together in the ladies’ toilet on the ferry (outbound journey) by a traumatised Virginia. A red-faced Mr Timpson’s argument that he’d been looking for his watch wasn’t believable, particularly when the entire Year 5 class pointed out it was still on his arm.

T&W uncomfortable about similar debacle this year and the thought of Mr Timpson gallavanting around a la Titanic (picture Mr Timpson sketching naked Ms Radcliffe in private ferry cabin then accompanying her for a dinner consisting of a plastic ham sandwich in buffet bar; evening ending with her at front of ferry arms outstretched, hair blowing in wind with Mr Timpson standing behind, chipmunk-like to the strains of My Heart will go on!)

But what about the children? They could’ve gone overboard in the meantime!!!!

At the time of the now infamous Ferry Toilet Incident, headmistress Virginia did what she always does when her teachers go bonkers. She called an Emergency Parents’ Meeting! Standing aloof, with her clipboard, she smiled at parents sympathetically and told us that “sometimes stress makes us do unfortunate things, we’ve all been there”. T&W, like all other parents left thinking “No, we have not all been there; we have not all had Mr Timpson whispering phonics vowels in our ear in the Ladies’ toilet on the outbound ferry from Calais to Boulogne!”.

Virginia, the headmistress was getting twitchy.    You could tell by the way she clenched her fists until the knuckles went white and then opened them again.   She’d been here before and she didn’t want to go back to the days of Fishfinger-gate.   Her relaxation tapes were helping her to see that a burnt fishfinger, wasn’t a good enough reason to chop off Mrs Mildew’s pigtail.    A lesson had been learnt.   Deep breathing and positive affirmations.    But still, these pesky parents pushed her to the limit.

She’d told them off time and time again about driving to school.   The warning siren that shouted “You are surrounded, return to your vehicle with your hands up!” had failed and a complimentary Snickers bar to every parent who snitched on a friend was too expensive. The lengths parents’ll go to just for a chocolate bar! Even tipping the compost bin on Mr Delaney’s mini metro hadn’t helped. Still they came. Something had to be done

Fortunately, she’d had the chance to watch American Sniper at the cinema.   She’d learnt the lessons – hold the gun still, point it away from yourself, deep breathing, lie low.    Hiding behind the bins, half slumped on some PE equipment, she waited,    When she spotted the target, she fired.

BANG!  She took out Mrs Tiller, who was getting out of her Ford Capri.   That’ll teach her for being 8 months pregnant.  Man up woman.   Got her!   Mrs Tiller falls to the floor.

BANG!  There goes Mr Leyland, limping around with his bunyon – got him.   Mr Leyland falls.

BANG!   There goes Ms Osman and her faulty alarm clock.  Ha ha!  I’m enjoying this.

BANG! BANG! BANG!
Before Virginia knew it, there were 10 down and the morning bell hadn’t gone.    She wanted to keep on going but she was wrestled to the ground by the Deputy,   “Stop it Virginia, stop it!   Go and listen to your tapes!”

“It’s only a paintball gun, Jenny” moaned Virginia.   “I was just letting off steam,  The parents drive me crazy!”.

10 minutes later, Virginia is lying on a bed listening to her relaxation tapes and repeating out loud:
“Parents are nice people.   They are my friends.    I like parents and they make me happy.”

🙂

 

So, whilst T&W and friends were watching their little sons play football, the conversation turned to pelvic floors; Whinger misheard and said she was having one fitted in her bathroom and hoped it wouldn’t be too slippery. Then Ruderag, always one to boast, said that she was strengthening her pelvic floor muscles right there and then. Admittedly,she did have a strained look on her face. But then, T&W was stuck with unfortunate image of Ruderag’s pelvic floor and went right off her Moccachino!

Pregnancy, giving birth etc always a shock to new mums. T&W thinks hospital should tell it straight “Yes Ms X, we suggest you strip naked in front of a load of strangers, get used to it for a bit. Maybe lie on a table in the canteen and stick your legs in the air?”

There are even more people present for caesarians, a whole audience!

Hello and welcome to my Big Fat Caesarian! (Loud Applause and whistles) Introducing – Chris the anaesthetist, Gary his assistant, Mr Kennedy the Obstetrician (loud cheers), some guy called Mike on his lunchbreak, Dom with the doughnuts (yeyyy), Sarah the midwife, Carol the student nurse, Luke on the government Back to Work initiative (more cheers), Andy on school work experience – come on Andy give us a smile for your facebook pic – don’t look so nervous, Pete the male nurse who sings the numbers from Glee, some guy from Pediatrics that Pete fancies (yeyyyy), some bloke who’s come to fix the photocopier (loud applause), oh and the the mum to be, better make room for her (Zumba style whoops). And the baby’s father, where’s he? Couldn’t get a ticket? Shame.

We never should have believed Bouncer when she said she could do stand-up. You don’t just “do” stand-up, it needs precise comic timing and a taut/honed script; but what she put us through was 30 minutes of verbal pain, like being forced to listen to the sound of a dentist’s drill. Although that would have been funnier. Pretensia, knocking back the Barcardi Breezers, laughed hysterically at every joke and then in her defence, said it was only because she’d eaten a Knobbly Bobbly and the little hundreds and thousands had gone up her nose. Ex-porn star, Nude Trude said she could do stand-up at which point, headmistress Virginia screwed up her nose and whispered “Please remember this is Little Ditchling, not West Croydon!”. The way she said “West Croydon” made T&W want to move there immediately – it sounded like somewhere out of a movie, with mean streets, smoky bars, guys called Mo and sassy blond women called Telulah. And yes, it would probably be somewhere where the likes of Nude Trude would be doing stand-up.

Gifted could sometimes make people laugh but usually, to get the joke, you had to have a double first from Cambridge and understand quantum physics. T&W knew her limits; stand-up was not an option, more like sitting or lying down.

The fund-raiser drew to a lurching close with Virginia doing her annual Russian dance in a giant rabbit costume. It ended with her trying to leapfrog over Rude-rag, Whinger and Clotheshorse, then tumbling into an awkward pile with her legs in the air. Was it the light or did Rude-rag actually smile? Hard to say although Whinger said she’d had more fun that night in hospital, when she was on a drip having her stomach pumped.

No wonder Virginia goes on and on about not posting pics on facebook!

Once again, a highlight of the prestigious PTA calendar had arrived; The Pyjama Party! The idea was that the children, wearing their pyjamas, would come back to the school in the evening for a mock bedtime, involving sleeping bags, bedtime stories, teddy bears and hot chocolate. All well and good but parents had recently been getting into the spirit too. T&W couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable seeing Mr Fit prancing around in his Calvin Klein pyjamas that left little to the imagination. Unsurprisingly, Nude Trude’s black negligee led to a few gasps followed by surpressed giggles when Virginia, the headmistress arrived wearing a Wee Willie Winkie nightcap and no hint of a smile! A few of the teachers were wearing the usual stripey pyjamas and bunny slippers getup; overall prize had to go to Mrs Cleghorn, the music teacher for her Babydoll nighty and 5 inch-heeled slip-ons with pink pom-poms. With legs like tree trunks, a thigh high mini-dress was a brave choice for someone estranged to fashion! Pretensia arrived late wearing a Prada dressing gown in fuchsia. She looked furtive, whispering suggestively to Mr Fit, throwing her hair back flirtatiously and laughing wildly at every merest hint of a joke. “I can’t take this off” she purred, “I’m naked”. Mr Fit lost control of his hands and spilt his hot chocolate down his Calvin Kleins. Quick as a flash, Nude Trude was the first to offer first aid and was down on her knees before Mr Fit could shout “help!”. Pretensia left seething and was spotted later in the carpark, slumped over the steering wheel stuffing her face with marshmallows.

Pretensia does a job that involves arranging flowers in the lobbies of office blocks; it suits her with lots of faffing around and little to show for it. Clotheshorse of course is a womenswear buyer of exquisite taste; she once nearly killed a mum in the playground who dared to ask where her umbrella was from! Clotheshorse’s umbrella and the Da Vinci code have a lot in common! One wrong question and you end up lying in a gutter with an umbrella tip in the neck. Princess Perfect Pants, an ex-headgirl/cheerleader is able to make you feel like a snivelling, inadequate wreck of a mother by merely a glance and so she is perfectly suited to her job as a health visitor.

T&W went through lots of trials and tribulations to get to her current job. Recently, whilst discussing with friend a TV programme involving actors dressing up as sperm then running along corridors, jumping over hedges and diving into alleyways (to simulate conception or just for fun?), T&W declared herself an Expert on Sperm (cue drumroll)! Not something to be proud of surely? You wouldn’t want sperm on your passport, not in writing and not literally either. The reason for this declaration, was that when T&W was 18, she had a temp job in a pathology lab at a hospital. The job was to keep a straight face and tell men when they brought in their sperm samples (for testing) that they had to do it again because it wasn’t in a sterile container! How mean was that?! Sometimes, the men would go red and shout “well you better bleep bleep come in with me to that bleep bleep room and do it for me you bleep bleep!”. Then, T&W would have to call Security as felt not qualified for job, also on minimum wage and temp agency had def given impression of grocery samples and not bodily fluids!

T&W then had some jobs with male chauvinist pig bosses! One (a Brigadier at Kuwait embassy) would press a buzzer and shout “T&W come!” like T&W some kind of dog! Yes, T&W even interrogated about whether had Iraqi boyfriend but using torture technique of tea & cake not waterboarding. Still tough! T&W broke at the coffee & walnut gateau – ” I’ll tell you anything you want to hear, just give me the goddamn cake!”. One boss told T&W not to worry her little head about things she didn’t understand. T&W eventually shouted expletives at boss and walked out to standing ovation. Very impressive for 5 minutes! Then T&W realised had no job and no money!

So career advice to children will be this: there are jobs that careers advisors at schools don’t tell you about like sperm experts and odour assessors (who smell cheesy trainers to assess trainer’s effectiveness). Choose carefully! But remember, during your 20’s you have to do some crap jobs and put up with difficult people. Then one day, you wake up, you’re 30 and you’re the Managing Director of Marks and Spencers. Yes, it really is that simple!

All agreed the recent mums’ night out had been a success. Alchy and Muffin Top had provided great entertainment by being sick in the wine cooler and wearing a crop top respectively. It was better than the formal entertainment of the night; a George Michael lookalike who looked like himself, Gary from Chelmsford. “Tonight Ladies and Gents, we have Gary from Chelmsford, looking like himself and doing some karaoke!”. The trouble with these kinds of nights thought T&W is that you often end up sitting next to someone you don’t know and then you realise there’s only so much about someone’s in-grown toenail you can stomach whilst eating Lamb Kleftika! Still, somethings never change. Pretensia spoke about herself the whole evening, only pausing for breath to rearrange the false pads in her bra. Nude Trude was looking particularly stunning in a dress that was backless and semi-frontless especially when she was dancing to Club Tropicana, where the drinks might be free but so was the sight of her surgically enhanced torpedo breasts.

“Look at the tattoos on her!” mouthed Rude-Rag. She was pointing unsubtly to a 20 stone woman wrapping herself around the leg of Gary from Chelmsford aka George Michael. As Gary sang “I want your sex” to the 20 stone blubber mountain, T&W decided to skip dessert. Gary was then in the mood for “Careless Whisper” and a nerdy 50 year old man (one of only 5 in the building) began to writhe around with Blubber Mountain making T&W wonder if this is what George Michael had envisaged when he wrote this song.

Gary from Chelmsford really seemed to want Blubber Mountain as he proceeded to sing “Fast Love” to her, gesticulating wildly with his hips in a way that made it clear he wasn’t talking about true love on an inter-city express. At one point, he seemed to completely lose his head in her cleavage looking like some weird Salvador Dali sculpture. T&W decided she’d had too much wine.

Princess Perfect Pants and Fitness Freak are very rarely seen without their aerobics kit, tennis raquet or bike (and often all three), even when doing the shopping at Sainsburys or having their legs waxed. T&W has sneaking suspicion they just pose at the school gates looking all virtuous then rush home, slump on the settee and watch Jeremy Kyle whilst stuffing chocolates!

T&W noticed there’s a concerted effort to get mums to hire a personal trainer a la desperate housewives; there is even a “fitness show” for all to see in park whilst on the school run to encourage slouch potatoes to get off their lardy backsides and work those abs! T&W has also been targeted – bit of an insult! Someone has spotted her and thought “Oy,oy, got a right one here. Looks like a cross between Waynetta Slob and the Michelin man does this one!” T&W not likely to be much of an advert though. “Yes, you too could have twiglet legs and sticking out ribs if you did this kind of workout!”. Blame it on the genes, T&W always does … blame it on parents, Plink and Plonk.

But T&W becoming like Fitness Freak as has been to Zumba! Yes, Latin American fitness phenomenon! T&W enjoyed this a lot but would have been better with Tequila slammers and Nachos just to get into South American spirit. Lots of Whooping encouraged!!? Whoop! Whoop! Bit strange to be honest. But on a wintry Tuesday night, standing in a cold room in a sportsclub that smells of stale beer, doing Zumba ….. would you really, hand on heart spontaneously whoop? Surely there are other things more likely to make you whoop and some even involve lying down! Fitness Freak probably would spontaneously whoop at a zumba class but then again she’d probably fall off her bicycle …