SEPTEMBER

Tuesday 31 August

Yes, I know this should have been on last month's page but I forgot there were 31 days in August and I can't be bothered to put it on the end of a page everyone's finished reading, so I'm sticking it here instead.  Live with it.

And what's so important I want everyone to read it?  My life, of course.  Well, I think its important anyway.  And today was "significant" in many, many ways that I don't like to think about too much or I end up trying to drown my sorrows ... again.

So, today was the day I went back to work after 10 whole, blissful days holiday.  Miserable, but feel quite chilled.  Turn up at work, not a clue what I did before I broke up, there's notes I left myself which mean absolutely nothing, and my bosses ask about meetings and appointments I've booked and, frankly, I don't have a clue.  So I wing it (i.e. I just pretend I know what I'm doing) and I'm not sacked so I must have winged it pretty well.

Despite this little setback, I acknowledge and contemplate my serenity on the bus coming home from work that night.  When I walk into the house and Small Son informs me that he's lost his job.  Why has he lost his job?  Because he took four days off work and didn't ring in and tell them, didn't pretend to be sick, didn't even ask for a few days holiday, he just didn't turn up.  So when he did eventually decide to wander into work today they sacked him.  And I can't say I blame them.

Losing a job through redundancy or you really can't stand to do it another second is one thing, but losing a job because you couldn't be bothered to turn up is quite another.  Small Son hides out at his girlfriend's house.  I buy cigarettes!!!!!!

My sister rings for a chat.  She hears me smoking (quite prolifically at this point), and rushes over with the Allan Carr Easy Way to Stop Smoking book that I lent her, and aromatherapy bubble bath to calm me down.

The bubble bath doesn't work, but the quarter bottle of whisky does.

Wednesday 2

Wondering whether to join a white witch class so that my chanting in front of the bathroom mirror each morning actually has some meaning (instead of chanting "Oh my God!  I'm old!  I'm fat!  My kids hate me!  And is that another grey hair?!"). 

Friday 3

My boss asked for a train ticket today.  I told him I'd given it to him days ago.  He looked confused and said he didn't have it.  I then spent 10 minutes,hands on hips and eyeballs rolling, saying I'd definitely ordered it.  But, just to cover myself I rang the ticket people and asked if there was a ticket there for my boss (we go and collect them after ordering).  They said they had.  I said, "Oh bugger!"

Dashed out to collect it, telling the ticket people that I'd just argued with my boss about it and he was going to sack me as soon as I got back, which made them all laugh (always leave on a high, I say).  Luckily, when I got back, he was on the phone so I just slipped the ticket onto his desk and slithered away.  He didn't say anything, and I didn't get the sack, so it all turned out alright in the end.

Monday 6

Tonight I came home from work and drove Small Son to the local reservoir for A Talk.  Not a ‘mom nags son’ talk, but a 'listen here I'm an adult and I don't deserve all this shit you're giving me and I've had a hard life and I've had to work hard to get all the things I've got and I'm not taking any more crap' kind of talk.  He managed a few sentences of 'I didn't understand' and we came back again. 

I feel better, I feel optimistic.

I buy more fags.

Tuesday 7

I'm starting to look decidedly scruffy because of my chronic aversion to shopping.  My one half decent pin stripe suit is furry!  Forced myself to go out at lunchtime to buy something, anything.  There's Christmas stuff in the shops!!!!!!  Found some clobber I remotely liked and one half of my brain was saying, "Now go and try them on, make sure they fit so you don't have to come back" whilst the other half was screaming "They'll fit just get out of here!" 

Tried on 8 items, wincing at my reflection in the obviously concave mirror (wondering why I don't look 19 any more), bought 2, which is good going for me.

I need a personal shopper who knows what I like and just gets the stuff for me .. all offers accepted instantly and gratefully!

Wednesday 8

One of the girls at work mentioned that there's another secretary who's having problems with her teenage son.  I instantly emailed her, "Want to do lunch to discuss the angst-ridden?" and she replied "When?"  So today we did lunch.  I'd never met her before but we seemed to recognise each other instantly in the office foyer, we obviously have that stress-brought-on-by-teenagers look about us. 

I was a bit worried about 'getting on' with someone I'd never met before, but we started talking as soon as we left the building, managed to stop long enough to order a drink at a nearby bar, considered ordering food but by the time we paused for breath it was too late to eat, and yakked all the way back to the office.  Our sons are so identical I'm convinced its the same person.  But talking about it to someone who's also suffering was fabulous.  I might start up a Parents Anonymous club for those similarly afflicted - bring yer own whisky, valium and several packets of fags.

Thursday 9

Today, in the local canteen where the staff are not reknown for their IQ levels, I asked for a baked potatoe with just prawns on it.

"Just prawns?" said the girl behind the counter. 

I nodded.  She put the prawns on. 

"Anything with it?" he girl asked. 

"No, just prawns." 

A second passed.  "Do you want anything on your prawns?"  

My smile was struggling by now.  "No, just prawns," I repeated, "Nothing else, just the spud and the prawns.  No salad, no mayonnaise, just the prawns." 

"You don't want butter on it then?"

"No."

"Do you want to eat in or out?" she asked. 

"Out," I said.  She put my spud and prawns on a plate, a plate you only get when eating in.

"I'm eating out," I said.

"Oh, I thought you said in."

When did 'in' ever sound remotely like 'out?  "Put it in a box," I hissed through gritted teeth, wondering if I had enough lunch break left to actually eat it.

She put it in a box and then, with a huge customer-service smile on her face, she asked, "Would you like a salad with it?"

You just can't get the staff these days, obviously!

Saturday 11

The clothes shopping continues, but only out of absolute necessity (and with great reluctance) before my bosses actually mention how bloody scruffy I’ve become in my furry pinstripe suit.  So, with grim determination, my partner and I went to the Bull Ring in Birmingham to shop for clothes (ugh!).  We decided we needed more motivation to spur us on, so we thought it would be fun if we gave each other pocket money to spend.  We swapped £20 notes with the criteria that it could only be spent on sweeties, comics and goodies.  My partner went mad on bath bombs, I went mad in Borders the Bookshop (where I would like to be buried) and bought books and … get this! … home improvement magazines!  Not something I’d buy ordinarily because of the expense, but having ‘pocket money’ was hugely liberating. 

Just before chronic boredom set in (about 45 minutes into the frenzied shopping spree) I actually found a mid-season coat I liked – now nicknamed the Swish Coat because its long and ‘swishes’ like Keaneau Reeves in the Matrix.  So, all in all, a good time was had by all!

Monday 13

Noticed the internal envelopes at work have writing on them.  It says, “Fold Flap Over.  Stops Contents From Falling Out.”  Nothing like stating the bleeding obvious to save you the hassle of actually thinking for yourself.

Tuesday 14

A departmental meeting.  The excitement never ends!  Started at 4pm with a ‘social do’ afterwards, which I had no intention of attending … in fact, 5pm, meeting finished or not, I was Outta There!

Almost an hour into the meeting when everyone was on the verge of a coma, there was a 15 minute break. Everyone – and I mean everyone – left the room.  Don’t know if anyone went back for the second half cos I went home. 

Wednesday 15

Fanfare of trumpets and explosion of streamers, Small Son has a job!  The same job he had at the beginning of the year (and was sacked from for turning up late for every day even though its only three minutes walk away!).  Fabulous news!  Not only the job he liked, but he doesn’t have to travel to it (and now that he’s lost his car licence that’s a Really Good Thing – oh, did I not mention he lost his licence?  18 months ban and a fine for undertaking a marked police car doing 70!  God, teenagers can be so stooopid). 

Congratulated him profusely and told him of my plan to get his carcass out of bed in the morning.  I’ll start off with a fine spray of water in his face.  If that doesn’t shift him, I’ll try the soaking wet flannel slapped across his features approach.  If he still slumbers, I’ll dribble a cup of water onto his head.  And if THAT doesn’t work, it’s the full bucket thrown from across the room job.

And if THAT doesn’t move him, I’m dragging his semi-naked body down the stairs and leaving it outside the front door.

Hugely relieved.  Things, they are achanging.

Thursday 16

A surreal event last night.  I woke up to the alarm peeping its last before going into full wake-the-neighbourhood mode and leapt out of bed, threw open my bedroom door.  And there was Small Son stood on the landing in his underpants staring at me like an animal caught in the headlights of a speeding car.  I raced down the stairs to turn off the alarm and noticed the front door was wide open and Small Son’s girlfriend stood outside.  Grunted a bit and went back to bed.  This morning Small Son wasn’t in his room, so not really sure what went on or if I dreamt it all (I didn’t … I’m sure I didn’t).

Anyway, spotted a familiar but not welcome face in a café at lunch today, tried to ignore it but it spotted me and came over to talk.  A girl who used to work at my last company, absolutely could not stand her because she gossiped outrageously.  She asked where I was working now, so I told her.  She said she was working there too!  ‘You gotta be f**king kidding me’ I almost gasped, but didn’t.  Fortunately she's only temping for a week (thank god for that!).  “We must do lunch to catch up on all the gossip,” she trilled.  “Yeah, right,” I said (when hell freezes over, I thought). 

Of all the companies in all of Birmingham, she has to come and work for mine.

Friday 17

As its pretty much rained since the beginning of August, I’ve been wearing my new swish coat for the last few days and Feeling Fabulous in it.  I love winter wear, it covers a multitude of sins.

Today was quite interesting.  Me and my swish coat got on the bus this morning and the suited man in front of me picked up two free newspapers and turned with a huge smile to hand one to me.  Get me!

The day got even better.  Small Son spent an hour in our company tonight – amazing.  We cracked open a bottle of champagne (on special offer at Sommerfield) to celebrate his new job.  11.5% proof!  Small Son doesn’t normally drink so it went straight to his head and he started smiling (not seen since … ooooh, I can’t remember its been that long).  By glass two he started to talk, like real adult conversation!  Gobsmacked by this turn of events my partner handed him a can of beer, and there was no stopping him after that.  I had to stop myself from jumping up and down clapping my hands together. 

Has he broken through the teenage angst at last?  Was this finally The End of the Tunnel?  Only time will tell, but I like him like this, all grown up and interesting and funny and talking to us like we’re real human beans.

Bloody brilliant day.

Saturday 18

Strange, strange day.  First our hairdresser came and we yakked with her for almost an hour.  Then my sister came and I yakked with her for another hour.  Then Middle Son rang, yakked with him.

Then police arrived at my door (my partner said, “Wait here a sec, let me warn her before I let you in”).  My heart slithered into my lower intestines and began to sob hysterically, but no, it wasn’t about Small Son and another motoring offence, they’d come to arrest my neighbour, the one who slashed my hedge down (like three months ago!).  “Shall we go and arrest him then?” they said.  “I doubt he’d remember what for now,” said I.  Told them that in the interest of neighbour relations (!!!) we wouldn’t be taking the matter further.

So, yakked with police, then went to see my mother for a yak.  Came home and rang my ex-husband about his mother (who’s the most negative person on the planet and keeps ringing my mother for a whinge about pretty much everything, which is getting my mother down).  Then Big Son dropped in, so yakked with him.  By which time it was 5pm and I was in danger of getting lock-jaw.

Can barely speak now.

Sunday 19

After the yak-fest of yesterday, had to catch up on all the chores today (oh dullsville).  I’m not massively house proud, I don’t fret if my bog doesn’t shine brighter than the sun, but even I began to notice the house was looking a bit shabby (having spent most of summer in the garden).  So decided a routine was required, thoroughly clean a room a week, shouldn’t take more than an hour, then I could spend the rest of the afternoon ‘doing my own thang’. 

An hour?  Yeah, right. 

Started in the living room (the front room, the lounge, whatever you call it in your part of the world), moving furniture to vac underneath and cleaning skirting boards and places not previously reached.  One hour turned into three, and then my dad came over and pointed at garden plants, and I thought my flowers had obviously peaked too early and were way passed their best, so thought I’d put the garden ‘to bed’ for winter.  Another three hours.  Plus washing and drying and ironing and the obligatory bath (I love my bath!) and a late lunch.

7pm sat down absolutely flipping knackered, far too knackered to do my own thang.

Routine definitely needs revising.

Tuesday 21

Bit of a scare today.  The glands in my neck swelled quite spectacularly - I had no chin, only a neck with a face on it.  I was somewhat alarmed to discover this in the bathroom mirror this morning since I didn’t think face falling decrepitude happened overnight.   Despite feeling ghastly, I trooped into work and resisted the urge to crawl under my desk for a snivel and a kip.  Someone mentioned it might actually be mumps!  Not a good thing to have when you have a house full of men at home (and I do, eventually, want to become a grandmother).  My boss studiously avoided me all day (he has small people at home).

I ring the doctors and grovel for an appointment (“Is it an emergency?” they asked.  “I have a fat neck, earache, headache, and feel like death, would you consider than an emergency?” I replied, trying not to sound bitter with my illness).  They told me to ring back for an ‘emergency’ appointment later.  Later, they gave me three potential appointments (“3.15,” they said, “I’m at work,” I told them.  “4.20” they said.  “Er, I’m still at work.”  “How about 5.10?” the receptionist snapped.  “I’ll be there.”)

Arrived at the doctors surgery with my fiercely fought-for emergency appointment to find not a single soul in the waiting area!  Sat all alone with a copy of Cosmopolitan (couldn’t find any actual articles amongst the advertising).  From the corner of my eye I saw a man enter the surgery, he strode purposefully across the waiting area and sat right next to me - of all the seats to choose from he had to sit by me.  Obviously a nutter, I thought.  Looked up, saw my partner.  Yep, definitely a nutter lol.

Doctor (different one to last time but they all have the same oh-god-not-another-sick-person attitude about them) examined my swelling, checked in my ears (“Bit of wax in that one,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if this was a comment about my personal hygiene or if it was a medical diagnosis).  Anyway, he said it wasn’t mumps (phew), it was a viral infection, no medication needed, keep taking the Paracetamol and no I couldn’t have three months off work to recover.

Bugger!

Wednesday 22

Discovered several people at work are suffering from swollen glands too.  Suspect it might be something to do with the air conditioning, so trying to persuade the company to issue us with safety wear.

My mother and sister were coming into town (i.e. Birmingham city centre) to meet me for lunch.  Whereas I’m punctual to the point of obsession, my sister is the complete opposite and has absolutely no concept of time whatsoever.  Drives me bonkers.  At 1pm, I had a phonecall to say they were on their way (on their way!), but they had nowhere to park, so I had to organise a car parking space for them underneath my office building - which they eventually manage to locate.  Paced the empty office well peeved.

I went to meet them at the exit to the car park.  I waited.  Lit a fag (yes, I’m still smoking!) and waited.  Whinged at some poor soul who was also stood there smoking.  “Does your sister drive a yellow car?” he asked.  “Yes,” I gasped, “Did you see her come in?  What did she do, smash through the barriers?”  “No,” he said, “She went down the exit ramp instead of the entry ramp.”  “Yep,” I told him, “That’s my sister.”

Finally spotted them at 1.30.  I was not happy.  “Why can’t you ever be on time?” I raved, “I was going to take you for a nice meal at Café Uno, but now we’ve only got time for a quick drink in the Litten Tree.”  Oooh I did whinge.  Much apologising followed, but we managed to squeeze quite a lot of yakking into our tiny 30 minute slot (a whole hour would have been nicer!).  Afterwards, they went shopping.  “Get her a watch,” I told mom, “A big one that chimes loudly on the hour, every hour.”

Thursday 23

My mum is depressed.  She lost both her stepfather and her cat recently and is feeling very down.  This isn’t helped by daily phonecalls from her ‘friend’ and my arch enemy, the ex-mother-in-law (cue scary music and blood curdling screams). 

Ex-m-i-l is a professional and chronic whinger of the first order and is on the phone to my mother for at least an hour every day complaining about … well, anything and everything.  The council offered her a flat right opposite my mother a few weeks ago and, when ex-m-i-l went to look at it, she managed to fall out with the neighbours!  She’s incredibly negative and very depressing, just what my mom doesn’t need at the moment.

I ring my ex again and said, “Listen, my mom’s not well, can you get your mom to stop ringing her cos its not helping.”  He says he’ll see what he can do.

Friday 24

Go out to lunch with the girlies.  We wait (and wait) for our food to arrive.  Another secretary joins us, but a panic-stricken waitress tells us she can’t take any more orders from our table; “It’s the rules,” she says.  The secretary says she only has time for a drink anyway.  The waitress says she’ll have to check with the manager.  Minutes later she returns to says its okay.  “How very good of him,” the secretary drawls.  “I’ll have a white wine and some olives.”  The waitress’ eyeballs almost pop out.  “Oh, I can’t serve you olives!” she gasps, “I can’t take any more orders from this table!  It’s the rules!”

Our food finally arrives and we share ours with the rule-breaking secretary, wolfing it down quickly in the short amount of time we have left of our lunch break.  

Saturday 25

My partner starts feeling ill.  He’s never ill!  And he’s a miserable sick person; snappy, irritable, and constantly barking, “Don’t fuss, I’m not disabled, I’m just ill!  No I don’t want tablets!  I can get my own drink thank you very much!”

Resist the urge to do the humane thing and club him into unconsciousness.

Ex arrives to get cheap tyres from Small Son’s garage.  The minute he walks into the house he pulls a face and says, “Stinks of cigarette smoke in here!”   “I wouldn’t know,” I tell him.  “So,” he gloats, “You’re both smoking again?”  “Small Son drove us to it,” I say (not that he’d know anything about it!).

Partner shows off our new bath.  “Oh,” ex says, “I didn’t think you’d get a full size bath in this small bathroom” (he told me this for 22 years!)  “Have you fixed the boiler then?” he asks.  “Yeah,” I say pointedly, “Finally, after 12 years, I have running hot water in the house.” 

Go to make coffee and hear partner saying to ex, “I don’t know who put that shower in, but they didn't have a clue what they was doing, leaked ever since it was put in, completely rubbish.”  Ex remains strangely silent … guess who put the shower in!  I was killing myself laughing.

Ex tells me he had a word with his mother about my mother, and his mother took the hump.  “Oh,” I say innocently, “It’s not like your mother to take the hump.”  He gives me a strange look.  I may have had to put up with teenage angst from our sons on my own, but he has to tolerate his mother forever! (cue hysterical laughter).

Sunday 26

Partner still ill.  Lifeless.  Morose.  Barely moving.  His face looks like its slipped down his skull and is hanging, miserably, off his jaw.  He’s hot.  He’s cold.

He’s bloody cantankerous!

Refusing to let it stop him doing anything, he fixes the doorframe in the bathroom (which rotted from the leaking shower) and boxes in the bottom of the bath ready for tiling.  Then he collapses in a heap, sniffing, coughing, refusing all offers of help or (God forbid) sympathy.

Go to B&Q to buy tiles.  15 boxes of wall tiles, 3 boxes of floor tiles (at £20 per box!).  We pile them into two trollies and haul them to the tills (where I have a nervous breakdown at the cost!).  Start putting them in the boot of the car, the car sinks lower and lower until the exhaust is almost touching the floor.  Drive home very very slowly.

Listen to partner coughing and sniffing all night, too afraid to say anything in case he bites my head off.

Monday 27

Partner still ill.  He doesn’t go to work!  Doesn’t go to the doctors, either (“Stop fussing!  I don’t need a doctor!” cough, splutter, sneeze).

“Thinks he’s at deaths door, does he?” the girls at work laugh, “Wants you to wait on him hand and foot.” 

“No,” I tell them, “Completely the opposite, won’t let me do anything for him at all.”

“Unusual for a man,” they say.

“He’s a very unusual man,” I tell them.  And he is.  Normally.  Smiling, happy, cheerful, thoughtful, considerate, kind, funny, attentive.  But give him a viral infection and he turns into Victor Meldrew!

Buy medicine to try and cure him at lunchtime.  While I’m waiting in the massive queue to pay, a woman pushes in front of me (Hello? Am I invisible?  Am I standing here purely for decorative purposes or wot?).  I cough.  I wait for an apology.  The woman doesn’t move, so I push my way in front of her and, suddenly, she’s indignant.  I turn and glare at her, and she actually steps back.

It’s a jungle out there!

Max strength Paracetamol, max strength Lemsip, max strength Lemsip capsules.  “You’re not going to take these all at once, are you?” the assistant asks me.  “No, it’s a choice thing,” I tell her.  “Only they all contain paracetamol and you can’t take them all at once.”  “No, I don’t intend to.”  She repeats it again and I look her straight in the eye and say, “I’m 43.  My sister’s a nurse.  I have an IQ above that of a dung beetle, and I’ve seen three children through every conceivable childhood illness known to man.  I know what these contain and how to take them.”  She seems vaguely satisfied with this.  I pay.  I walk away.  The assistant suddenly shouts across the shop to me, “You don’t have high blood pressure do you?  Only you can’t take those with high blood pressure.”  ‘I didn’t when I came in,’ I mutter under my breath.

Shopping at lunchtime!  Hate it.

Tuesday 28

While I’m at work, my partner rings from home to inform me of an “event.”  An official from the court arrived to see Small Son.  Apparently one of his motoring fines hasn’t been paid.  The official tells Small Son he has 7 days to pay it or he’ll be arrested! 

Whereas normally I’d go into panic mode (the brain screaming OH MY GOD! over and over again) I feel surprisingly calm – he’s wore my emotions out!  I calmly sit Small Son down for Yet Another Talk when I get home from work. 

Watch programme on night about parents who continually bail their children out of financial trouble (timely, eh?).  One 60 year old mother was still bailing out her 31 year old son to the tune of £10,000.

My resolve stiffens.

Wednesday 29

Small Son rings me at work to say he’s been in touch with the courts.  Apparently, two other outstanding fines were also ‘earmarked’ for official visits, but he managed to get those put off.  Small Son sounds quite cheerful.  I ask him why.  “I only owe the courts £*** in fines,” he said.  “Only?” I ask, dumbfounded.  “Yeah,” he says, “I thought it was a lot more.”

Oh God!

Cheered in afternoon by conversation with rather eccentric secretary who has some very off-the-wall opinions.  “Most people in this country are stupid,” she tells me out of the blue.  “Oh, I don’t think most,” I say diplomatically.  “Yes, most,” she insists, “The whole country, completely and utterly stupid.”  I laugh it off, but later she walks passed my desk and says, totally deadpan, “Tolerance and understanding are my middle names, you know.” 

I had to leave the office to wipe the tears streaming from my eyes.

Thursday 30

Go out to lunch with the girlies.  The Rep Bar.  Fabulous place.  Calm, too off the beaten track to be packed, and serving wonderful food promptly and efficiently (unlike the last place … which was, incidentally, Café Uno on Colmore Row).  While we’re eating, the smoke alarms go off from the open-plan kitchen.  Not a normal alarm, but (this being the Rep) Valkyrie booming from the speakers!  The whole place erupts with laughter as red-faced chefs frantically run around waving towels in the air.