Monday, 31 March 2014

The Enchanted Wood: Mother's Diary


Friday:
Roger says we have to move to the country in last ditch attempt to save our marriage.  He's sacked the nanny and says I have to home educate the kids.  Says I can pick apples and keep chickens.  So that will entirely make up for the complete lack of social interaction and mental stimulation. Also, he has hidden the vodka, the massive penis.

Saturday:
First day in country.  Cottage full of mouse shit.  Kids feral.

Sunday:
Nothing happened.

Monday:
Nothing happened.

Tuesday:
Roger back at work.  Sent kids into woods with sandwiches and bottle of milk.  Found vodka.  Village shop does not sell tonic.

Wednesday:
Children v keen to make toffee for someone up a tree called Moonface.  Found this to be completely within the realms of normality so made toffee.  Should really have made them write about it or something in spirit of home education, but instead told them to chuff off into the woods again as I had bonbons to eat.

Thursday:
Kids up tree.

Friday:
Kids still up tree. ON THE GIN.

Saturday:
Kids still up tree.  Roger and I both pretending not to notice.  At least, I think he's pretending not to notice. Am not speaking to him as still hacked off about moving to the country.

Sunday:
Kids back from tree, having been kidnapped by polar bears.  They seemed well.  Made a plum cake.

Monday:
Argument with Roger about wanting another baby ( I do, he doesn't).  He says I'm still mentally unstable after my last bout of PND.  Also, has not forgiven me for calling the last one Fanny.  Thinking about it, that might have had something to do with the PND, but obviously cannot admit this.
"I'm bored, Roger," I shouted. "I'm a shell of a woman with a husband who pisses off to work all week, leaving me living in the middle of nowhere with three wild savage children who'd rather live up a tree than in this shit hole.  A baby could give me purpose."
"FINE," he hurled back. "WE'LL CALL THE NEXT ONE MINGE AND SEND IT UP THE TREE IN A BASKET TO LIVE WITH THE OTHER THREE, SHALL WE?"
He really is an insufferable bastard.

Tuesday:
Visited at home by short man with unfeasibly large head who wanted to say thank you for the toffee, and did I want to buy any kitchen goods from his mate who's deaf and entirely covered in saucepans?  Bit weird.

Wednesday:
Although, if he's got any cut price Le Creuset, I may be tempted.

Thursday:
Kids back from trip up tree with tales of being given toffees that grow bigger and bigger as you suck them and then explode in your mouth.  Roger says he has something similar to share with me.  He can jog on.

Friday:
Angry pixie in garden again.  FFS.

Saturday:
Kids cousin, Dick (see Roger? SEE? It's not just me with the penchant for genital themed baby names) coming to stay as his mother's on the coke again 'ill'.  Whatever.  Just throw another one into the mix for me.  It's not as if I've got anything to do apart from make buns and darn socks, is it?

Sunday:
Kids up tree all day, then arrived home late, on flying upside-down table, knocking down washing line in the process.  FML.

Monday:
Roger on day off. Threatening to phone the LEA and report me if I don't teach the kids something.  He also has concerns about them hanging around in the woods all the time and consorting with talking rabbits, pixies and a man who refuses to tell them his name and lives with his mother.  Reassured him that all is perfectly fine and just a product of their over fertile imaginations.  Interrupted by rabbit in a cardigan delivering a note saying that kids have been captured by Dame Slap and are being held hostage at her school in The Land of Slaps.  Bit worrying.  On plus side, at least kids getting an education now.

Tuesday:
Roger being vile.  Tells me he likes the sound of Dame Slap.  If he's of the impression that I'm going to get the handcuffs out again, he can think on.  That ship has sailed, Roger.  

Wednesday:
Kids home.  Don't seem to have learnt much at school, although now have a healthy respect for discipline.  Brought me a new saucepan and a lettuce to say sorry for worrying me.  So that's nice.  Had a gin.  Made scones.  Onward.


11 comments:

  1. Brilliant. Thank you! I strongly suspect Enid Blyton was on drugs.

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  2. Ha ha! This a much better read than the original. Good Stuff!

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  3. PMSL I started reading a bit of it recently and thought WTAF? I loved her insanity as a child but as an adult it's a bit too William Burroughs for me!

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  4. Absolutely loved this, I'd never thought about those toffee pops like that before!

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  5. Would love to do the same to My Family and Other Animals. Gerry Durrell's Mother in that book was a kind of 'bohemian liberal' let it go mummy (surely on the gin, but naturally away with the fairies) that I would have modelled myself on, had I the energy to model myself on anything other than a hideously tired, ill, deflated, inflated and unattractive version of myself.

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  6. WTF - feel like just had acid trip hahaha. Think need to read the book. Laughing hard at Roger and his optimism though. Excellent post xxx

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  7. Brilliant! My daughter has started reading this, sometimes I read it with her. I read it so much as a kid and loves all Enid Blyton books. Yet it's so weird reading them as an adult and a mother. I mean what mother leaves her kids up in a tree, even if he is upside down from being rude to a policeman in topsy turvy land and needs to wait for the land of spells to make him right again?!!

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  8. Ah, now I see. I'm doing home ed. all wrong......

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  9. I just killed myself laughing - the husband does not get it.

    I love you, you crazy WONDERFUL woman!!!!

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  10. PMSL, especially at the toffee pops. Awesome! How did I miss this first time around?

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