Haha.

Friday 29th February 2008

Proposal

I am already married, so will not be proposing to any men today.

Saturday 1st March 2008

I hate March. Piceans are born in March. Piceans are slippery to a man and I tend to avoid them. I also hate the way March pretends to be spring and then turns bitterly cold just when you have taken the horticultural fleece off your echiums. You have to watch the weather forecasts like a hawk.

Today we went to the Royal Academy to see the Russians. In fact they were almost entirely French but the Russians own them. We took Maisie and Sylvie. Sylvie is staying the weekend while her parents are in America.

We had to become friends of the Royal Academy to get into see the Russians or else we would have had to queue for 40 minutes. John says this is a good thing because we can go to the Summer Exhibition early and buy a painting. We are already friends of The Tate and it’s a major operation to get there so I don’t know exactly how useful this new friendship is going to be, but I simply cannot queue for 40 minutes so there was nothing else to be done.

We all loved the Russians. Maisie loved the Chagalls. I loved the Matisses and John loved the Monets. Sylvie said she liked them all because she is very well brought up. After the Russians we went to Fortnum and Mason.

What is the point of Fortnum and Mason ? How does it work ? We had lunch there and everyone in the restaurant was older than us or foreign and John said he didn’t think any of them had been there before because he kept hearing people asking the hundreds of staff where things were. As in ‘Excuse me, where can I find an extraordinarily expensive eau de nil tea set with small gilt flowers on it ?’ or “Do you sell easter egg hampers with a price range between say, £50 and £80 ?’

The little girls had potted shrimps for lunch and I had wild salmon. John had a tiny bird but I have forgotten which sort. After lunch we bought some wine and two passion fruits and then we walked through Soho.

The weather had changed again and it was very warm. People sat outside and smoked at cafe tables. Prostitutes lounged exotically in doorways and the sex shops had their doors open. Old Compton Street was not as much fun as it used to be because, according to Ellis, all the gay men have moved to Vauxhall. Melati is still in Great Windmill Street and the French Pub is just the same on Dean Street. If we had stopped and peered in I am sure we would have seen an old chum of Henrietta Moraes enjoying an afternoon absinthe with Lucian Freud in the snug, but we were in a hurry.

‘What’s a sex shop?’ asked Maisie.

Sunday 2nd March 2008

Mother’s Day

Nick Cave

It is Mother’s Day. Abigail says that contrary to received wisdom Mother’s Day is, infact, an American import. She says that originally Mother’s Day was a day set aside for servants to visit their mothers on one sunday each year. She says that during the war the American GIs over here were missing their mothers and resurrected the idea sending them homemade cards and telling them to take a day of rest . The card companies subsequently jumped on board and Bingo! Mother’s Day. Abigail is such a kill joy.

Anyway Maisie didn’t know any of that so she and Sylvie brought me a cup of tea and a beautifully cut up orange in bed.

Zac brought me a card he’d made with a picture of Keifer Sutherland on it. Then Abigail produced a stunning bunch of hyacinths and tulips and a card saying. ‘Oh my God ! Everything my mother told me is true!!’

I like Mother’s Day.

In the evening we went to see Nick Cave in a church in Hampstead. We has VIP bracelets and were given 10 free iTunes. I don’t know what 10 free iTunes is but I will give it to Abigail.

Nick Cave has a very small nose and he is very tall. He danced around, he picked up a maracca, he shook the maracca and he did some scary singing. Nick Cave is very good.

Tuesday 4th March 2008

My Mother

Tonk

I heard someone say this on the radio today ‘We need a consultation on the legislation to clarify the situation.’ I think I might shoot myself.

I have to go to Chiswick to fetch my mother from May’s house. My mother has been staying with May and now she is coming to stay with me for a couple of days before John, Maisie and me go to Greece. We are leaving Abigail and Zac home alone for the very first time.

We are going to Greece to see John’s sister, Byzantia. How can you call one child John and the other Byzantia? It’s ridiculous.

I must go to Chiswick in John’s giant new car because it has Sat Nav and I don’t know where Chiswick is. I can get as far as the West Way and then my brain starts to fizz. I assume John’s giant car has fewer prejudices than I, and perhaps, a better sense of direction.

I am back from Chiswick. The car was very big and other drivers tended to get out the way which was nice but it had no idea where Chiswick is either. I told it to shut up a few times. It told me that the average speed I must expect to travel at was ‘8 miles an hour due to heavy traffic.’ It told me my ‘route would take in some toll roads.’ It told me to go down St John’s Street and round the back of Sadlers Wells. I asked it if it was completely mad and switched it off. I listened to Vanessa Feltz on the radio instead.

I like to see my mother. She is not at all dull. She told me my father had advised her not to come. She said she has an eating disorder. She made Abigail some soup. She refused to eat supper and burst into tears The next day she told me she had been joking about her eating disorder. I think she finds Abigail rather stressful.

I have a parallel universe. You can have them because of wormholes, this is the only bit of quantum physics that I am keen on.

In my parallel universe, my family is functional. We play croquet and are bathed in perpetual sunlight. We eat at a scrubbed pine kitchen table and we discuss art and literature. We have an Aga and in the summer the children swim in the cool, brown trout stream at the bottom of the garden.

Abigail said this.

‘Mellie Cramp insisted on coming to Top Shop with me. It was so annoying. I didn’t want her to come and she kept trying on horrible shoes and asking me if I liked them and then saying she had no money anyway. She is so hench. She kept nudging me and pointing at people much thinner than her and saying “Don’t be obvious or anything but am I as fat as her?” Oh my God she is so tonk, you know. Not bouncily, prettily round but really tonk.’

Tonk ???

Friday 7th of March 2008

Greece

Yesterday was the last day of my life because I have to go in an aeroplane. Spring is coming and there are hyacinths blooming on the kitchen table, filling the house with their sweet purplish scent. Zac is the dearest boy and I am not sure he will do well without me. Abigail will be very rich. Abigail is very pretty, I think she will be OK.

I hate to fly. Flying is not possible. I have studied the theory. I know that the speed of the plane creates a vacuum and that the vacuum sucks the plane upward and into the vacuum because you can’t have a vacuum but what if the wings fall off ? Or the fuselage peels back like a sardine can and Maisie is sucked out, seat and all ? What if the pilot is Osama Bin Laden ? What if the steward has a broken heart and forgets to lock the doors. Things that fly should flap their wings.

We got up at 4 am. I find this easy because 4 am is a normal time of day for me. Perhaps I should go and live in Australia and then 4 am would be 4 pm and the insomnia would be beaten. If I survive this flight, I must investigate how to get to Australia by boat.

We parked the car in the short stay carpark which was silly because it will cost us £180 for three days. We didn't;t realise this until we were in front of the barrier and you can’t reverse out of the carpark. John said ‘Oh well, we’re stuffed.’ and parked the car.

We flew to Greece. It was very exciting. We took off and flew over France. We bumped over the Alps. We ate breakfast and Maisie had bacon because there were no vegetarian meals left.

We arrived in a bright blue morning.

‘Are we down yet?’ asked Maisie, she was crying because her ears wouldn’t pop. I told her that we were and she said ‘British Airways pilots are much better than Air Exel aren’t they?’ I agreed that they were.

I haven’t seen Byzantia for 18 months and I haven’t seen her husband Ari for 18 years. ‘You haven’t changed much.’ he says when we met in Arrivals, which was nice. He hasn’t changed much either. He says all his hair is gone but I think he looks the same as he used to. He looks a bit like Jack Nicholson only slimmer, browner and younger. I didn’t tell him that though.

Ari drives us to our hotel. It is in Kifissia and is called The Semiramis. The Semiramis has yellow plastic balconies, it has a huge light display spelling out “YES” in the lobby and it has pink glass sliding doors. Maisie loves it.

Our room has designer lighting that you can turn up and down from a central panel. It has a green light and abstract art painted on glass that you can also turn up and down. We decide to have a rest and meet up with Ari and Byzantia later on at their flat.

8th March 2008

Greece

We had a lovely evening with Ari and Byzantia. Their children arrived home from college. They are twins and they are 20. Yanni looks like John and Sammi looks like a Greek goddess with sliver blonde hair. We ate supper together and Ari introduced us to a spirit called mastika. It tasted like cough medicine. Ari takes us back to our hotel at 12.

3 am. My mobile rings. I can’t find it because it is under the bed. I find it, it rings off. ‘Home’ reads the display. Oh my God. what has happened? Are Zac and Abigail OK? I ring back.

Zac answers ‘What’s happened?’ I ask ‘Are you Ok?’

‘Abigail is having a party and getting off with people.’ says Zac.

We especially asked Abigail not to have a party while we were away.

‘Which people?’ I ask.

‘I don’t know.’ says Zac ‘Some boy. They were in the laundry room making lots of noise. They woke me up.’

‘How could they wake you up?’ I ask ‘What sort of noise?’

‘They are all drunk.’ says Zac.

‘Let me talk to Abigail’ I say.

‘What on earth is going on?’ says John.

‘Abigail, what on earth is going on? Zac says you are getting off with people.’ I say when she picks up the phone. ‘Are you having a party?’

‘It’s bloody ridiculous.’ sighs Abigail. ‘I’ve just invited a few friends over. It’s all fine.’

“Which boy?’ I ask, as if that matters.

‘Only Bo.’ says Abigail. ‘God I don’t know why Zac’s so upset. We weren’t doing anything much.’

I’ve seen pictures of Bo on her MyFace website. Bo is a model for Armani. We are not allowed to meet Bo.

“Well tell them they can’t stay the night. I told you, only Ellie can stay the night. You’ll have to tell everyone else to go and you shouldn’t upset Zac.’ I say.

“For fuck sake,’ says John ‘What time is it ? What boy?’

Abigail says that she will tell everyone to go soon, and she hangs up.

9th March 2008

Greece

11 am. I ring Zac on his mobile. ‘They’re all still here.’ he says. ‘They slept in your bed. ‘

John is in the shower. I am glad he can’t hear this conversation.

‘Who slept in our bed?’ I ask ‘Who is still there?’

‘Abigail and some boy. All of them stayed over.’

‘Which boy?’ I ask ‘Can I speak to Abigail? Are you OK?’

‘She’s my sister for God’s sake,’ says Zac. He sounds very tired.

‘I know, darling.’ I say ‘And it’s quite understandable that you are upset. Let me speak to Abigail.’

‘Which boy?’ I say.

Abigail says ‘Bo of course. We didn’t do anything.’

I say ‘I don’t care if you did anything or not. Will you change the sheets?’

She says ‘Why? We only slept, we didn’t do anything.’

I say ‘Because I don’t want to sleep in sheets that some smelly adolescent boy has slept in.’

“He’s not smelly.’ says Abigail.

John comes out of the shower and I hang up.

‘Is everything OK now?’ says John.

‘Yes fine.’ I say brightly.

Maisie looks up from watching German television and catches my eye. She raises her eyebrows so high that they disappear into her fringe. She says nothing.

Today is another bright blue day and we are going shopping in Plaka. We were going to the Acropolis but we didn’t wake up until 11.30. We will go to the Acropolis tomorrow.

I had a shower in the orange shower with sliding green doors. Maisie watched German television, then we met Byzantia for lunch in Kifissia.

We sat outside and drank beer and ate delicious salads. The sun was warm and all the children were dressed in fancy dress to celebrate the last feast before Greek Lent. Greek Lent is different from our Lent because Greek Easter falls on a different day.

We caught a train to Plaka and Maisie bought some bracelets for her friends with the eye on them to ward off evil spirits.

10th March 2008

Greece

We climbed the Western hill past the theatre of Dionysus to the top of the Acropolis.

I picture slaves groaning beneath the lash, the creak of harness leather, muscle-bound young men astride light weight chariots and the smell of sweating horses. I imagine intrigues in blue shadowed courtyards, statesmen planning murder beneath triumphal arches, the swish of a linen gown and the soft slap of leather sandals on marble.

All Athens lies at our feet. Black cyprus trees punctuate the horizon. Ancient, twisted olives shimmer in the sunlight and the modern city sprawls down to Pireaus and the thin blue line of the distant Mediterranean.

We walk down the hill to Plaka for lunch. Everywhere there is music, streamers and clowns on stilts. There is a Maypole and a dancing man in a bear suit. Children hold kites and wear fabulous costumes. Maisie is entranced.

10th March 2008

Flying

I don’t want to go home. I love Greece. I like the bright blue skies. I like the way cars park on the pavements. I like the language. I like the way our language is so rooted in theirs. I like the insane, ubiquitous graffiti and the attractive, immaculately mannered young who are, presumably, responsible for it.

The only thing wrong with Greece is that their identity cards are too large. I bought Yanni a wallet as a present and his identity card was too big to fit in it.

I don’t want to go in an aeroplane.

Ari and Byzantia drove us to the airport. We had coffee and looked at artefacts in the airport museum. Byzantia said that archaeology is a very real problem for developers in Athens because they only had to dig a few feet down to discover an internationally important archaeological site which brought all building to an instant standstill while the museums moved in.

We said ‘Good-bye at the departure gate. I love Ari and Byzantia.

’‘Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain, Duncan Mayhew, speaking.’ says our captain in a soft Scottish accent rather like Gordon Brown.

‘Welcome aboard this BA flight number 4570. ‘As you may have heard, there are storm force winds in the UK today and as a result landing times at Heathrow have been staggered. Aircraft flying into Heathrow are being held on the ground all over Europe and we have a delay of approximately 40 minutes on this particular flight. I hope you will bear with us and thankyou for your patience.’

I read the Telegraph while we waited. I read this in The Telegraph...

Britain Braced For Exceptional Storm

The potebtially devastating threat posed by a storm gathering off Britain led to an emergency meeting of Government officials. Floods, violent winds and torrential downpours are expected to cause chaos after weather conditions ansd spring tides combined to create an ‘exceptional’ storm.

Last night an emergency meeting was held in Whitehall to plan a response.

Airports warned that flightys could be cancelled, while motorists were urged not to drive as the storm promised to cause serious disruption to travellers. Some ferry services were also scrapped.

A spokesman for Gatwick Airport said ‘If weather is as bad as currently predicted, there may be delays or cancellations.’ A Heathrow spokesman urged travellers to check with their airline before they travel.

Personally, in the interests of customer sanity, I think the cabin crew should have removed that particular article from the paper.

The flight over Europe was wonderful. The sky was blue and the plane half empty. The cabin crew plied us with wine and stayed to chat. ‘How was London this morning ?’ I asked.

The steward rolled his eyes and flashed his unfeasibly white teeth. ‘ My goodness.’ he said ‘It was soo ghastly. The weather is shocking. Ooh dear you’re not frightened are you ? Honestly Duncan’s awfully experienced., you’re in very safe hands, you needn’t worry at all. Would you like another bottle of Sauvignon Blanc ? ‘

I felt quite ill and decided to make my wine last from Auxerre to London. John and Maisie were watching Doctor Who on John’s iPod and seemed quite oblivious.

The descent into Heathrow was hideous. We plunged through scudding grey clouds. The plane bucked and veered. We stacked and dived and I pictured Duncan on the flight deck manfully wrestling with his joy stick, his pink, closely shaven Scottish cheek bedewed with sweat.

Maisie lay across my lap trying to make her ears pop and John held my hand. The earth came up to meet us at a sickening speed and the plane, caught in a gust of wind, bounced madly as we hit the runway. Maisie’s ears popped and she sat up.

‘Did he use to work for Air Exel ?’ she asked.

When we arrived home.... I cannot believe we arrived home... talk about luck, talk about by the skin of your teeth, talk about Oh my GOD that was sooo scary... Abigail and Zac had made us Mexican food for supper.

John cracked open a bottle of wine with shaking hands and we tried to understand what the hell had gone on while we were away.

‘Nothing happened.’ said Abigail crossly. ‘It’s perfectly normal to have a few friends over when your parents are away. God’s sake NOTHING happened.’

‘You were all drunk.’ said Zac his eyes burning with fury. ‘He was snogging you in the laundry room. what am I supposed to think? You’re my SISTER.’

‘’We weren’t drunk. And who the hell are you all of a sudden, the bloody Taliban ?’said Abigail ‘You’re just bloody Judas.’

‘I’m glad Zac told us.’ I say ‘We did actually ask you to have only one person to stay while we were away.’

‘Bloody Judas.’ says Abigail.

‘No one gave me thirty pieces of silver.’ says Zac ‘And if I’m Judas, who are you? Jesus Christ ?’

I can see this is all getting out of hand. I think it’s quite sweet that Zac was all protective about his sister’s honour. I say ‘I think it was quite sweet of Zac to be protective.’

‘Oh for Christ’s sake says Abigail and storms out of the room.

“She’s my bloody sister.’ says Zac.

Maisie wrote this and stuck it on Abigail’s bedroom door.

Dear Abby, Stop it. your not just Destroying your own life your Destroying your own mothers. She’s a bit cranky now and then but you’ve just got to pull yourself together or i will hate you and not talk to you. PS don’t show mum this present.

I wonder what the present was.

Maisie stuck this on Zac’s bedroom door.

Honer your mother and your father.

Where does she get her ideas?