Wednesday, 12 January 2011

I could have been telling her she was uglier than a hatful of bottom holes for all she was paying attention!

I was in the shop today, briefly, before meeting Make-up lady to take her to the Brocante, and there, I hit upon old lady supermarket-sweep-a-thon-pay-with-luncheon-vouchers time…I am trapped, and in there for what seems like years of my one short life, wondering to myself if I will still be here at Easter? I am busy answering all their “Oooh, they’re not all yours are they?” and how lucky I am, I am standing there “Oh yes, terribly lucky, so very lucky, yes, o lucky me”, when my 4-year-old daughter turns round to one of the old ladies who cornered us near the pickles, and tells her she is a “conass” this, in English means approximately a w*nk*r…smiling a big smile, and flashing her big blue eyes as she says it. Thankfully, the old lady did not drop down dead in shock, as I had feared, how would I explain that to the shop? “Oh, I was the last to see her, she was chatting to me, my 4-year-old daughter called her a w*nk*r, then she just kinda dropped down, like this” (demonstration over, and I am thinking I am NOT guilty?). No, that would not do at all. The nice old lady did let me explain we were English, we were only 4 (now I am sure she didn’t believe me!) and that we didn’t realise that we had just called her a w*nk*r, and how dreadfully sorry we were. I think she was more confused in my patronising look whilst telling her, and my insistence on calling one person ‘we’.

So, my date with Make-up lady, well it was, interesting. It went like this: I fly back from the doctor’s, skid round the corner to her street (well, not literally, I had my self-popping daughter in the car to think of, no, she has not been javelling her way out of the permanent/durable/non-flammable/non-eatable/biteable/ bubble I have decided to let her grow up in, she keeps unpopping her seat belt in the car, I am honestly having real issues…), I pick Make-up lady up, and off we go. I am suddenly transported, after the 4th time she recounts her life’s history to me, to a world where I am apparently opening my mouth, and making all the right facial gestures, but there’s no sound coming out, Make-up lady answers questions I never asked, laughs at things I was not even joking about, and genuinely, I only saw her breathe twice. I could have been telling her she was uglier than a hatful of bottom holes for all she was paying attention (she is not, I might add). As soon as we get there, she grabs her bag and basically ran off quicker than sh*t off a shovel, with the instructions to not forget about her, she needed a ride home, but she was off on her own!! Good god. What have I done? Well Esmie and I had good fun looking at all the second hand toys, much to the chagrin of my mother-in-law! They do have some cool stuff though M-i-L! And Make-up lady did offer to highlight my hair for me, so that’s nice. But probably, no thanks.

I am late for the kids, I see my friend, who asks me if I phoned her the other day. I hadn’t, but she tells me that actually I had, in error, I had congratulated her, on the answering machine, on the birth of her son and rabbled on incoherently for a bit, she thinking I had been drinking and ringing as a practical joke (err, what?!). It hadn’t been that, obviously, I had rung the wrong friend; they both have the same first name. And then I realised they had the same surname too, and she was astounded as it is apparently a really uncommon surname, and could they in fact be related it’s that uncommon, and as this is being discussed, I realise, she had her answering machine message with her name and surname, and I was still thinking that it had been the answering machine of the friend I had meant to be in contact with (did you get that? Re-read it then!). By now it’s gone too far, I can’t back track, if I do I am going to look like one complete and utter fruit cake, a total “conass”! On that note, my bed calls, despite the fact I shall be staring at the ceiling all night fretting about the fact that I have to potentially follow through with a big “fake” family reunion, because I’ve been and had one of my intensely thick moments, which befall me all too frequently…Night!

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