The Plot

Posted by dulwichmum on Wed 31 January 2007

Last night I went to the Cafe Rouge for a glass of white wine (red wine stains your lips and teeth) with my old chums from the NCT group. We always have a laugh.

Susan is always eager to point out the merits of having a partner who is a school teacher. Michael works in their daughter’s excellent state primary school, and so takes the responsibility for school holiday childcare, school drop off and collection. Joan was apparently openly seething with jealousy. Our men were still hard at work in the City of London when we were leaving for our tipple this evening.

‘Susan has it all’, gushed Joan.

‘I would give anything for a man who could sort out the childcare for me – that is just the hardest thing’, - she enthused (I can’t really see why, Joan is a stay at home mum and has a full-time nanny for her two school age boys).

Susan looked positively smug, and tottered dramatically off to the loo (tipsy again).

‘She has it all’, cried Joan within earshot of Susan as the door of the toilet slammed behind her.

When Susan had safely disappeared Joan couldn’t help herself, and the conversation descended into a bitchfest.

‘Get real Joan, your husband is filthy rich, I know which one I would prefer’, cackled Helena.

‘We can walk to our homes in two minutes from here. Would you really rather live in poverty and squalor simply because your husband would look after the kids?’ she bitched.

They both laughed like drains.

I felt nauseated walking back up Alleyn Road with this pair tonight. They remind me of the Head Girl and her evil brainless sidekick, a couple of hungry velociraptors who work in pairs with big claws. It takes me back to my school days.

They began a plot this evening:

‘Valentines day is on its way. Lets ask our husbands for breast implants for a gift – and God help them if they actually cough up a ‘gift voucher’ for the procedure.’ suggested Helena.

Joan agreed enthusiastically, ‘I’m in, how about you?’ she asked me.

I laughed nervously. I feel scared, I don’t want to play. The men are dammed if they do, and dammed if they don’t. James hates games. What to do, what to do, what to do???????????

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 Vintage Cheddar?

Posted by dulwichmum on Tue 30 January 2007

What a pace!

I had just about got the hang of email and Google, and even blogging, and now it is all MSN messages. I must admit, I do find it rather difficult to keep up. I don’t know one end of an Ipod from another.

But, I do expect to at least keep track of the things in which I have a genuine interest – food and drink – actually coffee really, Starbucks specifically. I was in Starbucks today, and to my horror, I noticed a ‘Vintage’ cheddar sandwich.

What in the name of God and all of his wonderful saints and angels is that in aid of? Vintage cheddar. Pray no? I must be seeing things!

Mature cheddar – is an appropriate description of a specific type of aged cheese. Vintage wine – a good year – cherished and substantially aged – I understand the concept. Vintage cars – yes this is appropriate also, perhaps looking more like Chitty chitty bang bang, and not yet a Citron 2CV – they are just old, not yet vintage (NEVER a Ford Escort). Vintage clothes – well on everyone else – yes perhaps, for myself? Only really if it was found in the back of my grandma’s closet. I have said it before and I’ll say it again, I do not intend to catch ringworm off some dead old lady.

If the likes of Keira Knightley et al. are claiming to be wearing 1950′s and 60′s vintage, they should bear in mind that these luscious starlets were often not very tall, with voluptuous breasts and yes tiny waists – bigger bottoms perhaps too, and that was OK. Perhaps today’s stars have copies of ‘vintage’ made up by the original designer to fit them? Can you really imagine stick insect Keira or Paris fitting into any pre-loved garment of Ginger Rogers or Marilyn Monroe? A handbag perhaps.

Vintage cheddar? No, no, no. Certainly not. That implies that it has been languishing in the back of the fridge for years.

I will not pay £2.70 for a dry old cheddar sandwich. No, it is wrong. Starbucks, you are a fashion victim, you have gone too far. Back away from this idea slowly and close the fridge door.

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