Diary of a Mummy Misfit #1 (17 page)

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Authors: Amanda Egan

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Humor & Satire, #Humorous, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Contemporary Fiction, #General Humor, #Humor

BOOK: Diary of a Mummy Misfit #1
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We spent the afternoon sunbathing and drinking Pimms while the kids played in the garden.

 

Came home and remembered we had no dinner and no oven to cook it in if we did.

 

Euphoria of the day deflated slightly.

 

Felt even more depressed when Ned said that a new oven would use up the majority of our emergency funds.

 

Why can’t I be like Fenella and have a few hats to flog off for situations like this?  Don’t think my second hand glad rags would raise much in the way of collateral, though.

 

Could be time to rent out ‘Ned and his Amazing Mobile Puppet Show.’

 

Joked to him about it but he didn’t see the funny side.

 

Friday 22
nd
August  AM

 

Spent the morning putting the finishing touches to the cake and I’m absolutely delighted.  Perhaps I could take it up as a profession?  Expect I would need all the proper tools of the trade though.  Like an oven, for instance.

 

Only down side to the cake is that Nic insisted on having two miniature bride-grooms on the top - can’t believe he’d want something so tacky and it ruins the simple class of my creation.  Oh well, it’s his wedding so I’m not in a position to argue.

 

I’m still laughing at the ridiculous positions Ned suggested the figures should be in - felt quite tempted to put them on the cake in the rudest configuration but resisted.

 

Off to flower market to get everything Fenella and I need for tonight. 

 

Wonder what tools of the trade you need to be a florist?

 

 

PM

 

We finally finished the flowers at about midnight - floristry is definitely not my calling.

 

Roses are vicious and I never want to see another of their nasty little thorns in my life. ‘Prick’ certainly became the word of the night!  With a few other expletives thrown in by one or the other of us at various intervals.

 

Realised at about nine that I hadn’t bought anywhere near enough lilies or greenery.  In perfect Lou style, we sent Ned and Josh to Asda for emergency supplies. Josh said he might even bring back some Galliano, as he wanted to discover what all the fuss was about.

 

When they eventually called to say they’d got another 10 bunches of lilies but no greenery, Fenella sent them off to the common saying, “Just use your imagination and don’t chop too near where dogs might have peed.”

 

She then looked at me and giggled.  “Hope they don’t get caught by the ranger.  He might think they’re cottaging!”

 

We both found this ridiculously funny given their shared homophobia - enhanced by the fact that we were on our second bottle of wine.

 

The wine was probably also responsible for our first few arrangements looking fairly professional and the subsequent batch looking like Max and Todd had thrown them together.

 

Anyway, the job got done and I had to get to bed so that I’d be in a fit state for the courier to collect everything in the morning.

 

Thank goodness the coffee in the Galliano sobered me up.

 

Saturday 23
rd
August

 

Nic & Rick’s wedding day (sorry Ned, ‘Civil Ceremony’ Day)

 

Woke with raging hangover - serves me right for getting Fenella to help with the flowers.  She’s a bad influence on me.

 

Slapped on rejuvenating face pack and soothing eye balm in the hope that I would look rejuvenated and soothed.

 

Bloke came to collect the wedding stuff - think I gave him a bit of a fright because I was still wearing facial jollop.

 

Then he looked at the cake in its protective box and smirked at the figures, “Bit tacky innit, Luv?”

 

Mum arrived to look after Max so Ned, Mrs S and I set off happily in our black and cream finery - although Mum put the dampeners on it a bit by saying I needed to change my washing powder because Ned’s
cream
shirt was ‘a very grubby looking white!’

 

Sunday 24
th
August

 

Spent the day flaked out in front of DVD’s and pretending to make Lego figures.

 

Yesterday was brilliant from start to finish - even ‘homophobe-hubby’ had a good time.  Which, considering it was wall to wall with gay men (natch), was a bit of a feat.

 

HIGHLIGHTS OF THE DAY

 

#1  Arrived at the hotel and met Nic’s mum and dad outside.  I’ve known them for over twenty years and still don’t know how they managed to create Nic.  Not only are they
very
old but they’re also the tiniest, quietest, most unassuming pair you could ever wish to meet.  Nic is huge, loud
and is more confident than anyone else I know.

 

He’s an only child though, and the light of their life - in their eyes, he can do no wrong.  I’m sure Meg (his mum) would have loved to have grandchildren, but she turns everything into a positive and greeted me with, “Oh, Libby, that adorable puppy you gave to Nic & Rick - she’ll give us so much pleasure over the years.  We’re down for babysitting duties when the boys are off touring or clubbing, you know.”

 

His dad, George then added, “Isn’t it good to see our son settled down at last?  All we’ve ever wanted is for him to be happy and he and Rick make such a good team.”

 

Brought a tear to my eye. 

 

Please God, don’t let Max be gay because I don’t imagine
his
friends would hear the same heartfelt endorsement from Ned on his ‘Civil Ceremony’ day!

 

#2  Nic & Rick looked gorgeous.  Arrived in a fab car and as we all greeted them, Nic called out to Ned, “Hey, Nedster.  I said ‘black and
cream’ -
not a dirty shade of white!”

 

He’s
such
a woman!

 

#3 The service was short but touching, with them both reading a piece about their love and devotion for one another.

 

Got quite emotional and had a lump in my throat.

 

Ned said later that he’d felt something in his throat too.  But it was more like bile.

 

#4  The function room looked stunning and our flower arrangements certainly looked the part.  The cake was prominently displayed on a spot-lit table in a corner.  Several gay couples admired it, cooing over the miniature bride-grooms.  Each to their own.

 

#5  Drank lots of frothy pink cocktails before the meal.  Nic said they were made to their own secret recipe and was going around asking everyone if they fancied a ‘Pink Cock’.

 

Meg chuckled coyly and said, “I’ll just have a little one!”  And Mrs S totally innocently (and I think trying to sound sophisticated) added, “Oh yes, I am very much happy to be partaking of some pink cock myself.”

 

Ned just said he’d settle for a pint.

 

Not one to let him off easily, Nic retorted, “How do you like your head, big boy?”

 

#6  Found ourselves on a table with two of Nic’s oldest gay friends, Piers and Tom, who have been together forever but bicker incessantly, and a married couple, Hannah and Phil - ex neighbours of Rick’s.  Great table to be on because Piers and Tom are a bit like a comedy double act and Hannah and Phil are always up for a laugh - and of course straight, so Ned felt more in his comfort zone.

 

Piers was complaining that the ceremony hadn’t been performed by a ‘proper vicar’.

“Cos you know, I’m rather partial to a man in a dog collar,” he went on.

“Yes but you prefer the studded variety, don’t you darling? Complete with lead.” Tom winked at me.

 

Ned’s comfort had been short-lived.

 

They then embarked on the most ridiculous debate about housework.

 

Piers considers himself to be the dominant one in the relationship so therefore does all the ‘manly’ jobs - the rubbish, decorating, electricals etc.  They call these the ‘blue jobs’.  (Ned reddened a little as he misheard).

 

Tom is the female component so does the washing, shopping, cooking etc.  The ‘pink jobs’.

 

They’d had a huge row that morning over who should change the bed-clothes.  It didn’t fit either category because they usually took it in turns or did it together.  Eventually decided that these ‘in-betweenies’ would be the ‘purple jobs’.

 

“But, Libby my gorge.  What’s loo cleaning?  Blue, pink or purple?  Tom asked.  Neither of us want to do it. 
So
bad for the nails.” 

 

Ned said that in our house it would be classed as purple but, if it was causing them so much grief, why didn’t they just get a cleaner?

 

Piers loved the idea.  “Oh you darling boy”, he answered.  “What a superb idea!  We could get one from those kinky agencies that send along a naked hunk who does wonders with a feather duster and a squirt of their Mr Muscle.”  (Ned squirmed again).

 

Tom bristled a little but his eyes glazed over as his imagination took hold.  “OK, but only if I get to do the interviewing,” he bargained.  “After all, surely hiring housekeeping staff is a pink job?”

 

“Oh absolutely”, I agreed.

 

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