Valley of the Trolley Dollies

It was a sort of Sally Fields weekend. You remember her, right? The actress who, on winning the academy award totally blew her street cred by gushing to the assembled throng of Hollywood bigshots ‘You like me, you really like me…’ thereby not quite manageing to dispel the myth that all creatives are desperately insecure emotionally stunted individuals who crave nothing more than the acceptance and love of others, when they should be able to stand on their own two feet…

Aaaaaaaaanyways, Friday started off smoothly enough. D’s sister, my future sister-in law (FSIL) turned up with her friend the chef. They were followed some time later by two old family friends, who got lost on their way to us, telephoned, then forgot to close their mobile, leaving D to listen to them going totally the wrong way, and forcing him to scream himself hoarse in the process. They still didnt hear him, but luckily, neither of them said anything nasty about us, as we were listening in on their entire conversation.

Eventually, they turned up, and I though ‘Ah, bed. An early night, I think.’

Can anyone say FOOL? The Pimms bottle was opened, we discovered there was no lemonade in the house, and yours truly was dispatched to Tesco to buy 4 liters. Honestly, Tesco carpark at 11pm on a Friday night is scally city. Gangs of boys in Burberry tring to impress girls by doing handbreak turns in their mum’ s Fiestas. The girl’s necks are covered in this season’s Elizabeth Duke collection. The boy’s necks are covered in hickeys and Burberry scarves. Lovely.

 Lemonade and garnishes in hand, I return to find that a full session of the Bad Mother’s Club is in effect. First thought? Someone’s dropped the poppers. Second thought? I’m the only onen who’d even know what poppers are. Third thought? Why has my head gone numb? Reality: A selection of nail polishes and products are open on the coffee table, their almost definitely toxic fumes filling the house and giving me a buzz I haven’t known since… Oooh some time ago. I’m wondering if Yankee candles do a similar scent. Something called sleepover, perhaps?

 The 4 women, who love their kids more than life, are away from the little darlings, letting their hair down, comparing totally natural paint jobs tans, and discussing the times when their unquestionably beautiful and sweet progeny have made their own mother’s wonder whose child they’ve spawned. Like the little girl who gyrates around the washing line in a manner that owes more to pole dancing for beginners than gymboree. Or the mum who accidentally upended a bowl of vomit and bile on her children. Or… well I could go on. Suffice it to say that, somewhere around the third Pimms, I was laughing so hard that lemonade shot out of my nose, and the phrase ‘They’ll take all your kids away if I put this on the blog’ was uttered.

Sorry girls.

So, bed at about 1:15. SLightly sloshed on Pimms and lemonade. By the way FSIL, the ratio is supposed to be 3:1 with the 3 being Lemonade not Pimms. Not that I’m complaining, like….

This entry was posted on Wednesday, July 5th, 2006 at 8:33 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.