A Mask to Hide Behind

Advice

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Sun, 24 Aug 2008 14:13:00 +0000

Having just completed the ninth load of washing for the day, hanging yet more bed linen out to dry, I was struck by a memory from just after we had moved house.

Papa had just put up a washing line in the garden, hanging the green line from the drain pipe on the house to a tree in the garden. It looked horrendous. When Mama saw it, she saw red.

"It looks like the bloody gypsies live here!" she screamed at him angrily. "What on earth were you THINKING?!"

"I... well... it isn't that bad, is it?" Papa asked.

Mama spun him round on his heels for him to face the aesthetic offender. "Would you wear that on your person?" she bellowed. "I think not!"

Papa looked confused. "What? On my person? What?"

"WOULD YOU WEAR THAT ON YOUR PERSON?" she demanded. "WOULD YOU WEAR THAT ON YOUR PERSON? WOULD YOU WEAR THAT ON YOUR PERSON?" she repeated as if on a loop. "NO! YOU WOULDN'T!"

And then she stormed off.

Whenever I find something displeasing, I ask that question. "Yes, but would you wear it on your person?" Try it.

Adults versus Grown Ups

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 06:29:00 +0000

(Let's preface this post with the truth: MY FAVOURITE PAST TIME IS BEING JUDGMENTAL. That, and eating chocolate spread off a spoon straight from the tub).

I will never:

- Have an uneven bob
- Revert to my natural hair colour (especially if it in any way involves grey bits)
- Become immune to the screams of my children
- Find it funny that my children have woken up everybody in the house at HALF PAST EIGHT whilst ON SODDING HOLIDAY by switching the lights on and off over and over again
- Only 'relate' to twenty-somethings by asking them, 'So... where did you go to university then?' rather than have an actual conversation like a NORMAL PERSON
- Discuss the teachers at the local school over dinner. For two hours.
- Stress out over having to fill up the petrol tank
- Repeat myself at least three times
- Guffaw instead of giggle
- Marry an idiot
- Utter the words, 'Not Now Darling'
- Iron underpants.

And this I promise.

The Other Half

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 06:51:00 +0000

Knelt at the feet of The Boyfriend's sister with a bottle of Chanel 'Rouge Noir' and the toe separators, I listened to the conversation being thrown back and forth over my head between her and The Boyfriend's mama as I pedicured her feet.

"Yah, yah, I think we need to fly from Paris really don't we, yah?" The Boyfriend's mama was saying, as she let my work on her own toes dry.

The Boyfriend's sister nodded. "Yah, absolutely, yah. We'll get the train from here to Paris and fly into London will we?"

"Hmmm. Then we'll hop on the train to Manchester and get Daddy to book the hotel for that night " The Boyfriend's mama said.

"Yah," The Boyfriend's sister agreed. "What time do we fly out of Manchester on the following day?"

"At about seven, darling. We'll get to the hotel on Rhodes in time for a late supper".

"Oh super! We can have cocktails on the seafront!" The Boyfriend's sister clapped her hands excitedly.

The two women beamed at each across the room. From my spot on the floor at the feet of them both, do you know what I felt? I felt working class.

Reality Check

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 06:40:00 +0000

I was really naughty and sent one of those 'Round Robin' emails to friends and family this week. You know the sort, "Am Very Busy and Important, will share stories about My Brilliant, Exciting and Fast-Paced Life when I actually Give a Shit" sort of an email.

Anyway.

Papa wrote back almost right away.

To,

Nana, Mum, Bryn, Bob (at the shop), Our Fred, The Man Who Sells Cheese on the Market, That Bloke in 'Wilkinsons' who is Always So Helpful, Jill, Joy, Uncle Tom Cobly

Since I'm a right idle sod and can only spare one second to feign interest, thought i'd just let you all know its 1.30 and i'm off for a poo.

Kind Regards and write soon

Dad.

I consider myself to have been put in my place. Sorry, Dad.

Henry

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 06:08:00 +0000

I like living in a place with a pool.

What I do not like is finding heaps of clothes in any given part of the house, as if I am living with Henry from The Time Traveler's Wife. Because of course, I am not living with Henry from The Time Traveler's Wife, I am living with The Boyfriend. The Boyfriend doesn't lose his clothes because he has inadvertently gone time traveling. The Boyfriend thinks it is acceptable to strip off any time and any place, because he feels like going swimming.

So the naked guy in your front garden? He belongs to me.

Leeches

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 06:09:00 +0000

"OHMYGOSH THERE IS A MONSTER IN THE WATER!" The Boyfriend cried excitedly, as he leapt up from the pool of water he was crouching beside.

I scaled the rocks and pools of water to join him by the edge of the waterfall. His Papa stood beside him, his Mama and sister just behind. "That," The Boyfriend's papa said, "Is not a monster. It is a crayfish".

The Boyfriend's sister clapped her hands together. "Pick it up!" she said. "Pick it up!"

The Boyfriend waded into the water and picked it up, just as his papa noticed another freshwater crayfish further out and skipped into the gorge to retrieve it. Both held up their prizes proudly, smiles like half moons, before noticing that crayfish can actually double back on themselves and pinch. Hard.

As they climbed out of the water, The Boyfriend's dad glanced down at his legs and swatted at a black speck. And another black speck. At the exact same time, The Boyfriend's face began to fall and a bright light shone as they both screamed in unison, "LEECHES!"

"Argh!" screamed The Boyfriend. "ARRRRRRRGHHHHHH!"

"Get them off!" wailed his dad, arms above his head. "Ohmygosh!" The Boyfriend's mama, sister and I stood back and watched the two men dance around each other to the beat of the leeches.

The Boyfriend pulled down his shorts. "Aretheyonmybottom?" he said, desperately. "ARETHEYONMYBOTTOM? ARETHEYONMYBOTTOM? ARETHEYONMYBOTTOM?" He bent over for me to inspect, cupping his penis into his hand and out of the way.

His dad continued to hop from one foot to another with a towel between his legs, brushing himself off furiously.

I leant in to take a look at The Boyfriends bottom, but in my line of sight I caught the outline of a person. Slipping my glasses from the top of my head onto my face, I spotted four outlines. A French family stood at the top of the waterfall, mouths gaping at the sight of so much meat, veg and seafood.

I have quite simply never laughed so hard in my short life. Ever.

Play Time

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Thu, 07 Aug 2008 06:07:00 +0000

"I am telling you!" I cried at The Boyfriend, "If you don't moisturise after you have been out in the sun then you'll be sore and peel." I rubbed vigorously at his back and shoulders.

"But it smeeeeeeeels...." he moaned. "And it is all slimy too." He looked down at himself. "I feel like I am about to play grease the pig... and I'm it."

Charming.

Life Skills

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Wed, 06 Aug 2008 06:08:00 +0000

"Come on!" jeered Posh Auntie to Wayward Cousin across the table. "Don't be shy about going to do the washing up!"

Wayward Cousin opened and closed his mouth like a fish. "I... well... it is just that..." Excuses, excuses.

I put up my hand to silence him. "Look," I said, "Washing up is no different to making love to a beautiful woman". I chose the analogy in reference to his Casanova ways.

He looked at me, as did Posh Auntie.

"You know..." I nodded, wide-eyed, willing him to understand me. "You get things hot, steamy and full of bubbles... take your time... be gentle, never rush... take extra care with those bits that are hard to reach..."

The Boyfriend's mama burst out laughing.

"Making love to a beautiful woman?" Posh Auntie questioned. "How is it like doing the washing up? I like to get it over with as quickly as possible".

"Exactly!" The Boyfriends mama and I cried in unison.

Clementine and Bobby

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Tue, 05 Aug 2008 17:35:00 +0000

We built a pond. We put fish in it. The Boyfriend called his fish Clementine.

If he kills Clementine, I swear I will drown him in his sodding pond.

(Well, it doesn't bode very well for the future does it?)

(Normal blogging service to resume soon).

Sunday Style

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Sun, 03 Aug 2008 06:44:00 +0000

After recovering from the lactic acid build-up that comes with spending three hours dancing with my whole body last weekend- air guitar and head-banging included- we have finally bade goodbye to The House of Madness. Sixty people last weekend has now become four. Four! Four people on a thirty foot trestle table in the garden does not a party make. But it does mean I can go to bed without cotton wool in my ears and there are no longer queues for the bathroom. Three daily carloads of empty beer bottles for recycling have become redundant, and you can almost always guarantee that you can find your swimming towel wherever you left it. Bliss!

So, in the peace and quiet of this week I have mostly:

Been reading: "Friends Like These" by Danny Wallace. You cannot fault the unfailing optimism that coats the stories told by this guy. They just make you feel that little bit better. Outrageously positive, thoughtful and very, very, funny, Danny Wallace decides to track down the twelve names he discovers in his old school address book. His journey's take him from Berlin to Loughborough to L.A. and every tale is told with such a lightness of heart that you feel that you are right there with him. The theme is not disimilar to Wallace's last book, 'Yes Man', but it is a formula that works- he obviously believes that if it aint broke, don't fix it: hilarious anecdotes about hope over varying degrees of adversity will always make for a great read. This book might not change your life, but it will certainly warm your cockles for at least a little while.

Been watching: Nothing. There is no television here, just each other for company. The threat of rain has loomed large for a few days, but I refuse to settle in for my 'ER' marathon on the laptop until the heavens open. Quite nice, this whole not-relying-on-the-telly thing. I have been very productive, making beds and cooking and talking to people, making new friends. I wonder how long my smugness will last now everyone has gone home? My money is on not long. And as for The Boyfriend, could somebody come and take him away now? He needs a full-time nanny to keep him entertained and I just don't have the patience.

Been listening to: The Eagles. It is the fault of The Boyfriend's sister. Hotel California, Desperado, Tequila Sunrise- I know them all well now. Great songs for singing 'en masse' with beer in hand as the sun sets over the fields. Not so good before ten o'clock in the morning. You live and learn.

Been saying: "Guys! I think it is alarm-o-clock!", to The Boyfriend's six and eight year old cousins... purely as an excuse to jump up and down on a bed like I myself am six again. Obviously The Boyfriend was not best pleased, but it made us laugh.

Been coveting: A house-guest whom can French-plait my hair, given that in the past week I have done no less than thirteen on other people. I want my hair cute and out of the way! I am the unofficial house hair-styler (and, as it happens, eyebrow-plucker and hair-dryer-lender. There are no ends to my talents, you know).

So, what have you mostly been doing this week?

Quote, End Quote

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 06:55:00 +0000

I overheard a conversation I shouldn't have today.

As we were getting out of the car on the way back from the recycling centre, and after having a discussion about the names of my future children, the Six Year Old Cousin whipers to The Boyfriend, "Why does your girlfriend want to call her daughter such a silly name?"

Because the name Clementine is ace, that's why.

Toilet Talk

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 06:23:00 +0000

One of the most hilarious things about sharing a house with thirty-odd other people is the queue for the loos, and the way we are all so incredibly British about it.

Me: Gosh, whoever is in there is taking quite a while aren't they?

Girl: Yes, yes they are. It would be quite nice if they freed it up soon. I really am quite desperate.

Me: Me too. (Crosses legs to make point)

Girl: (nods in agreement) I am sure that whoever it is will be out soon.

Door opens and smiling males exits.

Me: After you...

Girl: No, no: after you.

Me: No, really- I don't mind. Please. I insist.

Girl: No. You go. I can wait.

Me: Are you sure?

Girl: Gosh, yes, go for it. No problem.

Me: That is super, I'll be really quick I promise. I only need a quick wee.

Girl: No problem. I might be a bit longer than you. (Suddenly looks horrified at inference of words). Not that I am having or poo or anything. I need a wee. I just thought I'd let you go first. I don't need a poo. I need a wee too.

Me: Okay.

Girl: Okay.

Awkward silence of two relative strangers discussing toiletry necessaries.

Me: So. Urm. Would you mind awfully if I went now? Now that I know you don't need a poo?

Girl: Yes. Please do. I am sorry for talking about poo. Enjoy your wee.

Me: Thank you so much.

Closes door.

Heartache/Fartache

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 06:45:00 +0000

Another cross-Channel email from Papa:

"We are both missing you quite a bit and talk about you ALL the time; ... gets on me flaming pip I don't mind telling you! In fact I went and stood in your room for a bit the other day (broke wind and then left in a haze)"

Bless him.

Dancing Queen

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Tue, 29 Jul 2008 06:59:00 +0000

The big family party to celebrate The Boyfriend's brother turning eighteen, and his sister turning twenty-one, was a very successful night. Much fun was had by all.

It was the morning after that fazed me just a little.

"Crikey, you were really, really drunk last night weren't you?" a cousin commented. "You danced on a chair to Britney Spears and kept waving your arms all over the place. You were absolutely hilarious to watch, but I bet you don't remember anything do you? You even got on your knees and did an air guitar thing at one point!" She laughed at the memory of my dancing.

I looked at the girl, right in the eye and took a breath. "Actually," I said, "I was stone-cold sober".

Humph.

Child's Play

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 06:16:00 +0000

"I've had enough now, I want to go back," The Boyfriend's six year old cousin told me as she wrapped a towel around herself at the side of the swimming pool. "Can you take me please?"

I pulled myself up out of to stand beside her. "Of course I will take you, sweetness, but are you really sure you want to go? You were having such a nice time". I smiled at her sweetly, not quite ready to go myself.

She looked up at me. "I cannot be here while he is," she whispered, pointing at The Boyfriend's brother.

"Was he a bit rough with you?" I enquired, "Because we can tell him not to splash us if you like". I had seen him dunk her under the water earlier, but she seemed to be quite enjoying herself. The six year old nodded. "Shall I tell him off?" I asked.

"No. We'll tell his mum," she said, furrowing her little brow. "Or even worse- his dad. Then he'll really be in trouble".

She went quiet for a minute as she mulled over her options.

"Actually, teenagers never listen to their mums, do they? I think I'll just have my mum arrest him".

Sunday Style

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Sun, 27 Jul 2008 06:21:00 +0000

After those long weeks of waiting, I am here: The Boyfriend's family pad in Limoges, France. It started out just me and him, his dad and his brother. The smell of testosterone was overwhelming. Then his mum and sister arrived. That was nice- an oestrogen burst. But then, lots more people have continued to arrive since then- family friends, relatives, a few strangers... so the house is full. And this weekend I have to sacrifice my bedroom for some old people and sleep in a tent. Do you know how many times I have camped in my life? Guess. Yup- zero. Maybe there is somebody I can top and tail with...

Anyway.

This week, I have mostly:

Been reading: 'Birthday Girls' by Annabel Giles, because I needed something light to get into the holiday mood. The blurb reads, "Six women, six birthdays. But will they get what they need, or what they deserve?" The novel is in six whopping chapters, one for each character, whose ages range from ten to sixty. All the characters are linked to one another in one way or another, which reveals itself as the story unfolds. It was a fun, easy read with enough variety to keep me entertained on my sun-lounger. Each character is quite an extreme typecast of somebody we all know or are, and the traits of the protagonists are explored wonderfully deeply so that they are on the whole likeable and one can be empathetic to them. An unchallenging, enjoyable read for those who like their fiction bubbly, frivolous and sparky. It did its job- I am fully in the holiday mood now.

Been watching: KT Tunstall on the midnight ferry service from Dover to Calais. It is true! We were in the queue at the coffee shop, and I turned around to eye up quite a cute bloke in baggy jeans and statement, black-rimmed glasses. Then I noticed he was with a female (granted, I was also with my significant other but I always think it never hurts to window shop. One is just not permitted to try anything on), and I could hear their low Scottish accents. Then I thought, 'I recognise her...' and it took me just another split second to place her. A popstar! On the ferry! And it was most definately her, because lots of people clocked it. We were breathing the same air! She sat two tables away from us! I stared the whole time because I am so not cool! It was the highlight of the ferry crossing, followed a close second my feeling sea sick and thirdly by knowing the answer to the Guardian's crossword clue for six down.

Been saying: "Baby, did your dad really just say that?" in response to almost everything The Boyfriend's dad has said this past week.

Been wearing: My bikini... la, la, laaaaaa! What I haven't been wearing is the £2.50 sunscreen I brought from Wilkinson's before I left, the pump action of which broke with the first use. I should have just gone to Boots. Their sunscreen doesn't break.

Been coveting: Sunscreen that doesn't have a broken pump action.

Been finding myself: in the kitchen, cooking. I made supper for sixteen people the other night. The night after it was for twenty-three. The night after is was for thirty two. That is how many people have now arrived to the house, for a family party this weekend. I suppose I will feel safer now in the knowledge that I know how many aubergines it takes to feed thirty-two people. (The answer? An awful sodding lot.) I do not care if I do not see another aubergine in my life- which is a shame. I used to quite like them. They've gone into my 'Sin Bin' along with Amanda Holden and Weetabix. All make me feel queasy.

So. What have you been mostly doing this week?

Indecent Proposal

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Sat, 26 Jul 2008 06:28:00 +0000

"So I thought that in order to treat studying like a full-time occupation, I'd wear smart trousers and a shirt to lectures so that I just feel more focused, you know?" The Boyfriend told us, referring to his impending start as a mature student at university in September, over the 'plat du jour' we were digging into at a little cafe up the road from the house.

I snorted. "You are going to wear fancy clothes to lectures when you are surrounded by eighteen year olds in Hawaiin print shorts and flip flops?" It seemed a bit of a silly idea to me.

"Hey!" The Boyfriends dad pointed at me, "You should be encouraging him to be successful, not making jokes!" A bit of his Toulouse sausage flew at me from the fork he was gesticulating with. "He needs to do well this year."

"Woooooah," I held my hands up, surrendering to him, "You do not need to tell me that he needs to do well this year. I've already said, I am going to ride him like nobodies business until he gets the results he needs".

The Boyfriend's dad raised his eyebrows. "What you do in your own time and behind closed doors is entirely up to you," he said, smirking.

I went redder than the tomato salad sat before me.

"Anyway, why didn't you ride him when you were at school together, he might have done better then," he continued.

The Boyfriend looked up from his food. "She did," he said, "That was the problem".

Talk of Home

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 06:45:00 +0000

Just got an email from Papa:

"... Oh, got to do my ABBA joke last night! So mum was tellin the story of the five sisters going to the cinema and I say yer thats wat originally attracted mum to me, she thought I was a big ABBA fan cos I have it tattooed on my willie in big letters' then she finds out I'm Welsh n it said Aberyswyth!"

I miss them.

Boy Talk

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 06:37:00 +0000

"Wind that window down right now otherwise I am going to fart really loudly and kill and all of you," The Boyfriend's eighteen year old brother demanded on the car journey back from a long lunch at a neighbours house.

The Boyfriend's dad laughed. "I'll fart louder," he said. And then he laughed some more.

"I can fart louder and harder than the lot of you, so pipe down!" I declared, which was met with frowns but smirks from the three men.

The Boyfriend piped up, "Stop talking about farting otherwise I'll shit myself and top you all".

Living with only three boys this past few days is really taking its toll- I can't wait for some girls to arrive.

Bigger and Better

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 06:53:00 +0000

"I am really upset," The Boyfriend declared over supper. "Last summer I built a lovely compost heap in the meadow, it took me ages it did- I was really proud- and some bloody idiot has gone and built a bigger, better one right next to it."

I patted his knee in comfort as I continued to shovel pasta into my mouth.

He sighed.

"I feel like the Chrysler Building" he said solemnly.

(and I can assure you that is the only Boyfriend/Chrysler Building comparison I will ever make...)

Fight Night

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 06:22:00 +0000

I punched The Boyfriend squarely between the shoulders and screamed at a volume level I did not know possible, "YOU'VE JUST SODDING HEAD-BUTTED ME!" I squealed as my eyes watered and my head began to ache.

He didn't wake up from his deep slumber, so I kicked him for good measure, too. I used my heel and gave it my full force. I was so cross that I didn't even care that he had driven through the whole of the previous night to get us to our destination and needed to rest to recovery. I HAD BEEN HEAD-BUTTED. And it hurt. He had to wake up so I could be mad at him.

"Baby, it's okay, go back to sleep" he mumbled.

"I swear to God, if this bruises I'll be so cross," I moaned, cradling my nose.

He patted my shoulder and rolled over.

"Fucking idiot" I spat, pushing him to his side of the quite-small-bed.

To think I have signed up for two months of this. I am not sure if I will even last another night.

Arrival

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 06:49:00 +0000

Mama told me two things before I left for my summer in France:

1. "Don't bloody moan all the time and show me up as a mother".

2. "Don't sodding well leave my best cardi anywhere- look after it".

I did two things during the long, overnight journey to get here.

1. Moaned like hell because I was car sick and in a car with three boys.

2. Left Mama's favourite cardi in a service station on the M1.

Things can only get better, surely?

Sunday Style

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 06:52:00 +0000

The week before going abroad is always a fun one, isn't it? All those episodes of 'Desperate Housewives' that C4 considerately show to distract from the packing, the bikini wax one has to carry out on oneself because lack of funds means one cannot afford a beauticians appointment nor the petrol to get there, the list of books one can assemble from overflowing shelves as a 'To Read on Sunlounger' pile, and the time it takes one to upload this pile onto one's Shelfari profile for reviewing (see my sidebar for that, too). So many little jobs pop up, that the week before going away is almost as fun as going away itself (almost). Seeing friends for the last time before departure, spending hours trying to find where one put the sodding Euros from the last trip away, refusing to eat for the week beforehand because one forgot to pre-empt bikini-shyness. Oh yes, one most certainly needs a holiday after all of that.

So, this week, I have mostly:

Been reading: 'In Search of Adam' by Caroline Smailes. I got this book quite some time ago, and am quite ashamed to admit that I got a third of the way through and decided I couldn't read any further. It is a devastating read. Paedophilia, rape, bulimia and violence are paramount, and with the narrative being in the first person- and that person being a six year old girl- it is uncomfortable and distressing. But, on deciding to give the novel another go, I realised that the author had really achieved something special. The desperate story of Jude is told so convincingly that initially I simply thought that I couldn't read about the demise of a girl so alarmingly disregarded by her environment. You feel she is doomed right from her conception, especially as the story unfolds. But that is why I am pleased I came back to it. I got to see how her story does play out, and understand that I gave up on Jude just like nearly everybody else in the book does. I am glad I gave her a second chance- her character will stay in my heart and thoughts for quite some time. A cross between 'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time' and 'Girl, Interrupted', this novel is wholeheartedly recommended.

Been watching: 'ER'- Series One. The Boyfriend brought the DVD for me a few weeks back, after I made a chance comment about watching the re-runs on E4 and just how clever I thought it was. After we came home with it, we spent two whole days in bed watching it together, and I can only repeat JUST HOW BLOOMIN' CLEVER IT IS. You CARE about the characters, and feel like you UNDERSTAND all the complicated medical lingo. It is rare that an American television series treats its audience like it might actually have a brain, and although the scripts move fast and you have to work hard at keeping up, it is easy to lose hours in the world of The University of Chicago's hospital. I do think George Clooney circa 1994 should come with a health warning though, he really does send me all funny. Almost as funny as Russell Crowe in 'Gladiator'. The bad news is that The Boyfriend has now got the next two series. Is it wrong to hope for rain just so I can plough on through these? Yeah, I know. It is. But GEORGE CLOONEY, Internet! What more reason can I give? (*sigh*)

Been wearing: Everything in my wardrobe at least once, even if it was only for thirty-two seconds. There is a method to my madness. It is this: the last thing I want to be worrying about when I have my Summer in the Sun is what to wear. I figured that if I took crap, I'd wear crap. So, I thought if I 'planned' outfits before I went then I would never waste precious sunbathing/ wine drinking/ cheese eating time deliberating over the merits of the long yellow dress over floral multi-coloured one. As I result of my efforts I now I have the perfect capsule wardrobe, which will serve me well I think. Unless it rains. If it rains, I'll just have to stay in bed watching ER. Hmmmm, actually...

Coveting: Sunshine. For reasons stated above. In addition, I have been coveting rain, also for reasons stated above.

Been saying: "I bet The Boyfriend's parents do not say things like that" (in response to just about everything that leaves the mouths of my parents. However will I cope being in 'company'? I have forgotten how to be polite...)

Been listening to: Lame, yes, but the obvious choice for getting in the holiday mood: Jack Johnson. When trying on the contents of one's wardrobe (YAWN), it pays to be listening to something that conjures up the right mood. The first time I ever heard Jack Johnson was on a beach in Thailand. I think I had one of those buckets of local red bull, amphetamines and Thai Whisky that sell for a pound or similar. I just remember thinking, "This. This moment right here, with the lazy sunset, The Boyfriend, this enormous sense of well-being, THIS is what it is all about". I put him on the CD player whenever I need to go back to that place. It works. I look at the picture of him in the album cover when I need an extra-special pick-me-up. Have you SEEN the size of his hands? That would be a happy place...

Been visiting: http://www.holiday-weather.com BECAUSE I REALLY HOPE I GET A SUMMER OF SUN. Have I mentioned that? (Please, please, please, please, please let the weather be fantastic! Or rain so that I can watch ER! But only after I have gotten myself a base tan! Please!)

What have you mostly been doing this week?

Trouble Adjusting

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 06:34:00 +0000

"We should go to the cinema more often" Mama declared. "I really enjoyed it the other night".

Papa nodded. "Yeah- why don't we go and see that Batman one?' he asked.

Mama screwed up her nose. "Urrrrrm, no. What about that Brad Pitt one?" she directed at me. "What's Brad Pitt in?"

"Angelina Jolie," Papa quipped, without missing a beat.

I don't imagine The Boyfriend's parents say things like that.

Whilst the Cat is Away...

noreply@blogger.com (girl with the mask) — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 06:31:00 +0000

"THE WINNER TAKES IT ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL" Mama and I cried, half in song and half as loud and tuneless as our little lungs would allows us to hollar. "THE WINNER TAKES IT ALLLLLLLLLLL," we continued, which quickly became, "DA DA DA DAAAA DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" as we realised we didn't quite know all of the words.

I was lay on Mama's bed as she did her make-up in the bathroom for a night out to see the ABBA film 'Mamma Mia!' with her sisters and her own mama. Having already seen the film was the perfect excuse for my non-attendance, as I had decided early on that murdering well-known 1970's classics in the privacy of my own home was one thing, but that doing it in public with her four sisters, my Nanna and countless Lucazade bottles disguising the vodka within was perhaps a little more than I could reasonably handle on a Tuesday night. I contented myself with getting Mama in the mood. That, and pinching one of the family-sized bags of Malteesers that she had brought for the occasion. I like to think that I was doing her a favour.

I shook and shimmed around Mama as she painted her nails in the kitchen, and sang even louder than before when 'Dancing Queen' came on. I warbled my voice to the high notes until tears welled up in my eyes, and splayed out my arms in emotion. As Mama's nails dried, she joined Dad and I in doing a chorus-line, as we swished our arms to the left, and then to the right, and then back to the left again. I was having quite a good time, really. We took it in turns to sing the lines of the songs, making up the one's that we did not know, competing with the volume of the speakers. We laughed as we tripped up over our words, and giggled when each other got them wrong. We were the three musketeers, united in song.

And then Verbose Auntie knocked on the door and it was time for them to go.

Dad and I were left to the sound of nothingness as Mama swiped the CD from the player on her way out of the door and didn't even so much as glance backward at her first-born and husband. She linked arms with her sister and tipped her head back laughing as she climbed into the car. We could hear the cackles of laughter even over the noise of the engine. They were continuing the fun without us.

We stood and silently waved them off, watching the silver car disappear. We waved until we were waving only for ourselves. I do not think that Mama even saw us.

We were quiet.

"Beans on toast for tea?" Dad asked after some time.

"Sure" I replied. "Because we know how to have a good time too, eh?"

"Absolutely" he said to me, shaking his head. "Absolutely".