Day 15 - A Taste of Domestic Bliss

I beat John to it today.  I woke bright and early with a distinct spring in my step.  The house was silent and when I threw open the windows to yet another gloriously sunny day, I was amazed by the tranquility that flooded in from the streets. 
     I made the conscious decision to avoid the News for half an hour or so and to relish the peace and quiet.  I made myself a cup of tea and took a pen and a notepad out into the garden. I began my list.

Meaningful jobs I could do after all this is over:

•  

Ok. Perhaps I was putting too much pressure on myself.  If I started with discounting the meaningful jobs that I definitely couldn't do:

• Doctor - That ship sailed 30 odd years ago when I opted to take Art, Media Studies and Drama for my A levels.  I'd never catch up!
•  Nurse - Apart from my qualifications having no relevance to the job (as item above), there are probably too many things that I'm scared of, such as blood and needles (I'm pretty good with on-screen blood and gore but that's probably no help).  I'm not too fond of other bodily secretions or hospital food either.
•  Teacher - Over the past two weeks it's become clear that this is not the job for me. I can manage forty five minutes (at a push) of homeschooling two children that I actually gave birth to, before I get the urge to open a bottle of wine.  The thought of adding another thirty that I have no legal obligation to love into the mix,  actually fills me with horror.
•  Ambulance Service - Much of the same stuff as nursing, with the added complication of not being particularly adept at parking anything bigger than a Kia Sportage.
•  Police Officer - Again, I suppose the blood thing could be an issue.  Also, the shoes aren't great.

I transferred £50 into my sister's bank account before John came downstairs.  It wasn't worth mentioning it to him and he'd never notice that sum of money.  Anyway, I did all the internet banking around here.  I hadn't asked her what it was for.  I guessed that having four kids off school all day was proving to be pretty expensive.  Margaret and Gordon's oh-so-polite voices drifted across the fence, just above the gentle birdsong.

     "How many beans, Gordon?" Margaret asked.

     "Ten, Margaret."

     "Cartons of long-life milk?"

     "Ten."

     "Great. What about the toilet rolls?"

     "Forty."

     Forty?!!! Thank God John wasn't awake to hear this!

     "Just grab whatever else you can then, please Gordon!" Margaret shamelessly called out.

     The next thing, I heard their car start up and pull out of the driveway. I tutted in disgust.

I felt well and truly ahead of the game, having had such an early start. Smug even.  The washing was in by 8am and on the line by 9.15.   The bathroom, downstairs cloakroom and hallway were spotless by midday and I don't mind admitting, that I was feeling pretty pleased with myself.  If I had any illusions that I was Anthea Turner however, they were short-lived.
     It started just before lunch, with my announcement that we'd have to finish off last night's bolognaise sauce.  "Ah Mum. Not again!"
     It went on through the afternoon.  "Any more crisps anywhere, Mum?"
     "I stashed some Prawn Cocktail in the dryer."
     "Ugh! I HATE Prawn Cocktail! You know I HATE Prawn Cocktail!"
     "Sorry," I said.  "Hey steady …. go easy on the milk!"
     It reached a head in the evening when John looked suggestively at me, over his steaming cup of tea and said, "I really fancy a whip now, Daisy." Then gave a little chuckle.  "A Walnut Whip."
     I kind of grimaced but he didn't notice and headed off to the kitchen. To be fair to John, he was used to me grimacing any time he said anything remotely suggestive to me.
     Ten seconds later, he was back. "Daisy!  Where did you put those Walnut Whips?"
     I gave him a wide-eyed, tight-lipped little grin.
     "You're kidding!  There was a full bloody pack.  Well, I suppose I'll just have to make do with a couple of Jaffa Cakes."
     Again, I felt that the tight-lipped grin would do the talking.
     "French Fancies?"
     "Sorry!"
     "Bloody hell, Daisy! You scoffed the lot?"
     "I think there's half a packet of Digestives in the twins' room," I proffered.
     "Digestives!  Well, they're not gonna cut it are they? Not when I had my mind set on a Walnut Whip. There's no bloody food in this house, Daisy!  You said you'd stock up."
     "I did stock up. I spent nearly two hundred quid!"
     "Two hundred quid!  Right, that's it. I'm gonna have to go out again tomorrow and get more supplies."
     "Suit yourself!"
      "And I'll do it for a lot less than two hundred quid, I'll tell you that!" He folded his arms and sulked.
     It was at times like these that I knew I'd made the right decision in stashing that Wagon Wheel under the sink with the cleaning products.  No one ever looked in there!