Communication and my mother
1. People of blogland, my flat feels like it has shrunk overnight. My life is about to be suspended for ten (10) days. My mother is visiting, you see.
2. Huh? What did he say? she asks of the train conductor's announcement.
She makes me repeat every word, just to make sure.
How do you spell 'Clapham'?
Now can you do that with a Scottish accent?
I do my best; she's in hysterics.
3. What's that noise? she says as my mobile gives its discreet beep.
I have a text message, I answer sheepishly.
Oh, who from?
I have friends, you know, I offer tentatively, and knowing perfectly well the text is some wonderful filth from my lover.
Not again! she exclaims later and with each beeping noise. What does it say?
I switch the phone onto silent mode and put it in the back pocket of my jeans. I''ll check it in the loo later.
4. Guess what I brought you?
I don't know. Chocolate? Presents? Real cheese?
The entire Project for the European Constitution document.
Yay.
175 pages. It's quite heavy. I would have posted it but then I would have had to pay for a stamp.
Oh, thank you so much. I was so looking forward to reading that.
5. Oh I see, you haven't tidied up although your mother was coming over..
She does the fingertip-on-furniture thing, looks in the fridge and frowns, gets the hoover out. I collapse. It's been a long day, yet it's only starting.
6. So, get me the A to Z; shall we make plans for the next ten days then? Are you sure you don't fancy the Chelsea flower show with me ? When can we go to Fortnum & Mason's?
I sigh and try procrastination.
7. Now, can I have your laptop; I have some communicating to do, you know',, she said.
She settles down to some frantic email typing, peppered with swearing about this weird English keyboard.
Oh.
Maybe she's got a lover.
Ah!
Maybe it'll work out.
Yay!
So that next time she comes over, well, she could bring him along, and they could stay in a B&B, and get really really busy together, and I wouldn't have to put my life on hold for ten (10) days?!
I leave her to her typing and cross my fingers.
8. Send vitamins. Or alcohol. Or both.
Michel Simon dans un musée du sexe ?
4 years ago
5 comments:
It's stories like this that make me thankful that my life is now my own.
Buy her some ear-defenders and get 'The Squeeze' over?
You can hide behind the noise of the hoover because, believe me, it'll be worn out by the time she goes.
Roared with laughter at this post and couldn`t resist sending you a text! ;0)
I was about to write something here...but then the most beautiful woman in my uni sat down next to me, I no longer have the ability to think. Damn hormones. Sigh.
Anne - sometimes only comparisons make us appreciate what we have..
Greavsie- 'The squeeze' is so not coming over. I get a rash just thinking about it.
Charlie - yeah, YOU come to the flower show next year..
Jacqui - you're cruel, you know that?
Rah - I hope you got her number. Gave her yours. Winked at her. Offered her gum. something. Make us proud, girl.
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