Humourless…

Posted by dulwichmum on Sat 29 March 2008

My perfect friend Vashi really does not share my sense of humour at all – you realise when I am joking don’t you?

OHMYGOD…

I fear I shall be lying down for the rest of the week, I may even seek confession.

Vashi recently described her frustration at how her prized Persian Blue kitty had been spending far too much time in the arms of a frightful neighbour. Apparently this loathsome woman had been gloating regarding the fact that Snookums preferred to dine at number 7! How very dare she? That woman is a minx.

“What am I to do?” wailed my chum. “I am spending a fortune on fresh fish at Moxons, the cat gives me a filthy look if I even dare to dish out Hills Science. It is not the money, clearly – I just feel so damn bullied and betrayed!”

“I wouldn’t stand for it a minute more. I would have him put to sleep if I were you,” I laughed “and visit a taxidermist with the corpse. I am sure that someone experienced could compose him appropriately. You could position Snookums on your piano stool within view of your evil neighbour – just inside the bi-folding glass doors. She could rattle her damn pots and pans and call the cat to her hearts content – she would soon realise that the relationship was over“…

I WAS JOKING…

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 Common…

Posted by dulwichmum on Wed 26 March 2008

My monster-in-law arrived unannounced for a flying visit this afternoon. The poppets are on their Easter holidays from school and bounded about the house under the supervision of Magda – our new Polish au pair (she cannot speak a word of English and recently bestowed me with an enormous home made sausage and some hand knit socks upon her arrival at Herne Hill train station).

To my delight Granzilla commented on the profusion of award certificates stuck to our minimalist brushed steel American fridge complimenting my darling munchkins on their progress at their selective independent schools, and elaborated about how surprised she was as;

“they learned to walk far too soon. We really never expected that the poor darlings would be bright.”

“What are you saying sweetie?” I chirped through gritted teeth…

“Your father-in-law and I have always agreed that walking early is a sign that children are from council housing – well clearly they are pulling themselves up on the furniture which is positioned terribly close together in their frightfully cramped little homes. Walking early is a dreadful sign.”

OHMYGOD! That woman is outrageous…

Everyone knows that my home rivals The Tate Modern for square footage. I am beside myself with disgust.

Those socks that Magda gave me look almost Missoni you know – if only her grandma had knit me a cardigan.

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