Posted by dulwichmum on Wed 27 June 2007
When I had first left home and lived in student halls on Denmark Hill, I roomed next door to Geraint – the most handsome boy I had ever laid eyes on. Just standing next to Geraint in the breakfast queue made my ovaries pound and my legs turn to jelly. He had no neck and dragged his knuckles on the floor when he walked, his voice was deep and authoritative. I have always had a soft spot for the neanderthal rugger look.
Geraint had a very rich tycoon type daddy and I soon realised what a lovely but very lazy boy he was. Geraint had no real incentive to get out of bed in the morning, daddy had done all of the hard work making a fortune for the whole family to enjoy.
Within a couple of days of our introduction, Geraint invited me to Le Gavroche in town for dinner. I was over the moon, this was to be my first ever visit to a Michelin rated restaurant, and considering the fact that most university students survived on a diet of rice and tinned tuna fish – this was indeed a welcome feast. I seem to remember I purchased myself a new Wonderbra specially for the occasion (look it was the late 80′s).
We dined a la carte, Geraint confidently selected a lovely bottle of wine from the salubrious wine list, and when the bill arrived he spoiled the luxurious treat by instructing the waiter to put it on his fathers tab! The waiter informed Geraint that his father was upstairs in the private dining room and asked us if we would like to join him, to which Geraint calmly replied; “My mother thinks he is in Hong Kong, if father is upstairs, we shall be ordering liquors.” I was completely horrified. How very mercenary Geraint was.
Geraint informed me that King Solomon himself had a great many wives, and further described to me how women found powerful men irresistibly attractive. My romantic fascination with this boy instantly faded, he had no drive or even self respect, content simply to live on handouts and bribes extorted from his father.
Should the wives of powerful men really be expected to share their affections? Isn’t this whole concept terribly tragic?
Geraint’s father really is a complete dish…
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Posted by dulwichmum on Sun 24 June 2007
Yesterday was a truly eventful day. It seemed so overcast in the morning, the nursery school sports day could so easily have descended into a Cath Kidston meets Glastonbury style mud bath, but no, the rain stayed away and all went well.
Perfect Max and darling Freya did their very best. I won the mothers race (again) in a super Joseph cashmere tracksuit, hurrah (well I really am terribly fit you know)… and James looked like a complete plum in the fathers race. Why do the men take it so very seriously? They thundered past – all clenched fists, beer guts and big red faces expelling aggressive Haka type howls as they charged.
One father who is a well known floppy haired actor, appeared to have been specifically ‘styled’ for the event. He spent most of the morning straining his head to see if “the paps” were about and seemed rather crest fallen that they were not. Clearly he was not aware of the fact that the editor of one of the most notorious Sunday rags was actually standing next to him for most of the morning with a Canon EOS 1DS camera with an L class Lens. Other city boy type daddies had obviously not exercised at all since university, and really should have purchased new shorts for the event… oh dear!
The children invited several chums along to watch James and I air lifted to Ascot. Trotting up Park Hall Road in my super chapeau with my dashing man to liaise with our transport – you will never guess who we met!
You really couldn’t make this up… My big boss was driving past “the local comprehensive school you pay for” with his family in a battered old Mercedes Estate (the most practical car I think with young children). He tooted his horn and pulled over sharply but James and I simply couldn’t stop. I made an effort to greet them but James had my arm and pulled me through the side gate of the College where we were promptly waved off on our helicopter journey by a dozen small boys and their parents. It really was a sickeningly cool spectacle! Yes my hair almost disintegrated with the breeze, and yes BB probably saw my lace underwear again, but these knickers were simply perfect!
We arrived by 12.15, in time to enjoy lunch. I had a bad head this morning when I awoke in James’ capacious suite at The Wyndham Conrad Hotel in Chelsea Harbour, directly opposite Robbie Williams’ penthouse apartment. I used my binoculars to look at his home – he has a telescope looking in exactly this direction! I imagine that in order to see Robbie right now you need to be in rehab too! Please excuse me, I must go and lie down with the windows open on my lovely Frette clad bed…
It is impossible to buy cheek bones like mine, and it is after all one of the laws of nature – survival of the fittest! Yesterday I was truly an Alpha mum, not Beta mum!
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