‘Staff presents,’ I concurred dully. ‘Zombie Apocalypses.’ Then burst into a coughing fit as have not had a fag for five years apart from two puffs on a joint at Leatherjacketman’s party.
‘I think I’m having a full-on breakdown without anyone actually noticing,’ said Rebecca.
Suddenly leaped to my feet, stubbing out the fag, in inspirational frenzy.
‘It’s just a question of prioritizing into quadrants. Look!’ I said, thrusting my quadrant sheet under her nose.
She stared at the form, then burst into hysterical high-pitched giggles like someone in a mental hospital.
I suddenly had a brainwave. ‘It’s a State of Emergency!’ I said excitedly. ‘A cut-and-dried State of Emergency. Once a State of Emergency is declared, normal service is suspended and you don’t have to expect anything to be all right and you just need to do whatever you need to do to get through the emergency.’
‘Great!’ said Rebecca. ‘Let’s have a drinky. Just a little teensy-weensy one.’
I mean, it was only half a glass and really everything suddenly seemed much better, till she leaped up saying, ‘Oh my bloody God and fuck. I’m supposed to be on the school run,’ and ran out of the door, just as Roxster texted:
Rebecca then reappeared for her egg sandwiches just as I remembered I was supposed to be on the school run as well. Ran upstairs, then downstairs, looking for the rice cakes, simultaneously texting Roxster:
3.30 p.m. Back in car now. Oh, shit, have forgotten rice cakes.
Gaah, text from Roxster.
HE’S having a panic attack?
Ended up rushing from car to school in ungainly half-walking, half-running gait in middle of which Scandinavian tourists chose me – for unexplained reasons – to ask for directions. Panicking that they were trying to steal my time, I carried on walking determinedly whilst gesturing directions back to them. Oh God. Have let down country by being inhospitable to foreigners (though Scandinavia is in EU, I think?). But what is world coming to when one is more scared of passers-by stealing one’s time than one’s handbag?
9.30 p.m. No phone call from Roxster.
Oh God, oh God, he’s going to call and break up with me for not having a time machine.
10 p.m. Hate it when people delay phone calls because you know they are putting it off as they have to say what you don’t want to hear. Though Roxster hates phone calls anyway because I do too much talking and will not delay talking until the morning. Oh, phone call! Roxster!
10.05 p.m. ‘Oh, hello, darling.’ My mother. ‘Do you know, Penny Husbands-Bosworth has started lying about her age – she says she’s eighty-four. It’s completely ridiculous. Pawl, you know, the pastry chef, says she’s just doing it so everyone will say how young she looks and . . .’
10.09 p.m. Have managed to get Mum off phone but now feel guilty and also think maybe Roxster called while she was . . . Oooh! Text!
10.10 p.m. Was from Chloe.
Aaaaaargh! How has child-rearing got so . . . so complicated? Is as if you have to keep them on some sort of permanent high of engagement and happiness.
10.30 p.m. Suddenly enraged with Roxster, blaming the whole socio-global child-rearing dysfunctional collapse on him. ‘BLOODY Roxster! Me and Chloe have had to arrange all this complex matrix of African drummers and bears and extra people taking care of the children because of Roxster, and now will have nowhere to go and no one to see, simply because of Roxster. Will be like a . . . like a GIANT CUCKOO, de trop in own house ALL BECAUSE OF ROXSTER!’ – conveniently overlooking the fact that it was me who had wanted to go on the childcare-demanding mini-break in the first place.
10.35 p.m. Impulsively sent positively glacial text to Roxster, saying: – then immediately regretted it as totally non-Zen and the Art of Falling in Love and hideous, anal and mean-spirited tone. Can completely see why Roxster might be having doubts as is twenty-one-year age difference, especially if adopting anal tone.
10.45 p.m. Muted text came back from Roxster.
Impulsively sent back:
A few minutes’ wait – then a texting ping.
Yayyy! We’re going on a mini-break.
11 p.m. Talitha just called to see what was happening and said, ‘Careful, darling. Once they have wobbles like that, they’re not just enjoying the moment any more, they’re thinking about the long term. And Roxster’s far too young to know what a disastrous mistake that is.’
Feel like putting hands over ears saying, ‘Lalalala, don’t care. You only live once. We’re going on a mini-break! Hurrah!’
Thursday 6 June 2013
9.