I'm sure you wouldn't, but:

Protected by Copyscape Unique Content Check

Thursday, 15 May 2008

Knit one, Bowl one

We’ll be lording it up at Lords, ho ho, my best beloved and me.
“You’ll need a hat,” said E, “or you’ll burn.”
So dodging the showers I took me into Town to look for a hat and purchase some shoes, the last having been squelched into horse shit cum quickmud in vain pursuit of that ghastly dog dancing with ponies. Nice they were too, my new shoes, barely three years old.

I look dreadful in hats, forlorn and flowerpotted, fit only to be cast as a vicar’s wife in “Rosemary and Thyme.” The sort with 3 sad scenes and no part in the denouement while the vicar humps a young lovely. Whatever I selected and dumped dolefully on my head made a sad frump appear in the mirror. Sun burn it is. That or a burqa.

The shoe hunt – I hate shoes – was a disappointment too, the ones I bought will have to go back. They will not do in the cold light of a home inspection. So it’s either the painful ballet-type things or my grim sandals.
Although I did bump into a friend who has been in the news a bit recently for having been swindled to the tune of £600,000 by what is called a Love Rat. It had been her children’s future and she squandered it on hope and lies and misplaced trust. She claimed to feel “empowered” by having just returned from New York where a paper had paid her to go to witness his deportation. She told of his many, many grubby liaisons, with other fallen fools most, like her, single mothers, now older and sadder. And poorer still. How when she thought he returned home "tired," it was exhaustion from hard work, so off she'd go to make him supper, while he recovered in a chair knackered in fact from spending her money and shagging other women.
Her sad tale combined with her chipper confidence forced me to realise that woeful lesbian sandals were not a bad cross to bear.

My mother meanwhile is blessed with the children during our absence.
“Wouldn’t T11 prefer to go to W11?” she bleated bravely.
Possibly, I thought
“No,” I said firmly, “he’s coming to you; they both are.”

When T11 was born, my father asked me what I now wonder were telling questions regarding grandparents and their importance in my childhood. While my life’s blood ebbed away (surgeon hit an artery: I was very ill) I was yet well-mannered and mindful to spare their feelings on the doling out of affection front. I didn’t want to appear too loved-up with my grandparents, and thereby exclude my parents, so I hedged my bets and answered in true slippery, evasive form.
He took me at my word.
They are busy people, ridiculously busy and tend not to see their grandchildren much.
“But you’d hate it if I were a Nan in a Mac at the school gates, forever up and down the motorway, pushing in,” my mother said in one of her conversation-stopping ways.
Try me I thought.
I’d asked if they wanted to stay in our house rather than have the children at theirs, a monument to expensive good taste and beautiful things.
“No, darling,” said my mother. The 'darling' chilled, and the no was the no to end all nos.
At the best of times my mother is given to umbrella-ish nos, the sort to stamp on a lot of what she would think of as my peripheral nonsense. This No rivalled the Dome in negative potential, and was slightly insulting. I sensed Lolly might be well and truly under this marquee of a No.
Lolly is currently residing at Dog Prison, aka the kennels, which is very much Her Sort Of Place. Full of barks and stinking of dog she is rampant to be within its portals. Our goodbyes are swift. Both of us feeling the better.

But even my mother’s nos are no rival for the sort handed out to my friend P by her father in law.
Mr D had been a vet, and when P and her family went away recently, Mr and Mrs D offered to stay in their grand Cheltenham house “to look after it.” How kind.
“Sure,” said P (thinking of the spring clean this would occasion to keep at bay cries of “my sluttish daughter-in-law, P.”) “I’ll leave instructions about the rabbit on the side.”
“NO! NO! NOOOO! Young lady,” bellowed Mr D, “You will do no such thing.”
P, used to recalcitrance from this quarter, raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow in query.
“We can’t possibly be expected to look after a RABBIT!” he continued. “A rabbit!” A handbag!
“Why not,” P asked, reasonably, of the erstwhile vet.
“It might escape and be killed.”
“It’s in its run, it’ll be fine.”
“NO, no no! it’s out of the question.”
He trumpeted some more excuses and then trumped them all with the fact that they might not come and stay at all, they might not make it down the motorway, indeed that they might die.
“Die?” said P, mentally reaching for a gun.
“Die,” agreed Mr D, spookily echoing her intentions. “Someone might shoot us.”
P drove 25 miles to leave the rabbit with her mother.
The rabbit survived.

And when my mother comes to collect the nippers, we will be ensconced in good seats, slurping on something delicious, while it is she who has to listen to bewildering tales involving lost furry gloves and “it” having been Luke’s fault and something unfathomable having been left in the rain.

Furthermore, what’s not to like about cricket?
I mean what's nicer than a game in which you can turn up for 2 days out of 5 (any 2 will do);
at which no-one looks at you askance for opening a bottle at 11 because, hey, if you've haven't by 12 then they are ALL looking at you thusly;
where you are allowed glass to drink from rather than brittle plastic, for they know that you have no intention of doing with it anything other than supping on champers;
where the absolute expectation is of good sportsmanship and manners, yours as well as the boys in white;
a game for which the result may be a draw, despite taking those 5 days, but does it matter, well, not really (unless we was robbed, obviously);
where you can be one woman to 1000 men, all of whom will behave impeccably, chat to you randomly, and none of whom will openly sport a tattoo or wear greasy nylon;
With or without a hat, whether ill-clad or not, can’t wait. Knitting is packed (large bag, chic-poor, capacity-rich) and I’m ready to go.


Edward said...

Top blog as usual. Of course, you look wonderful in a hat, but you won't be told, though looking out of the window and at the forecast, I think a brolly might be more use in any case. Nevertheless, can't wait to be sipping the champers with you, darling one.

aims said...

Now we must have some kind of link to this woman who was taken by the slug....simply must!

Do have a wonderful time - and do you really think you'll get any knitting done?

Fennie said...

Oh yes, never been to Lords but have looked after daughter's rabbit (s) she herself not yet having got around to producing any two legged animals without fur, despite being in her 36th year, poor dear. And after that rabbit experience I wouldn't want to again.

But no worries - sorry you haven't found a hat. There is always a right hat, something that will make you look dignified as well as eccentric and thus put you in a commanding position when among the 1000 males (with or without tatoos).

Personally, I would smuggle a rabbit into the ground (what are hats for if not for producing rabbits out of the recesses) and let it loose to nibble on the hallowed turf in the manner of Frenchmen, cockerels and rugby matches - all the while staring in the wrong direction, hat firmly on head and calling 'Harveyeyeyey!' But the poor rabbit might just be hit by a googly or something..... 'dashed fine cut to leg, what?' and be quite bowled over. Which would be embarrassing. You would be overcome - declare he had won first prize in the leverett class in Crufts for Rabbits in 2005 was a prize breeder and demand extortionate compensation, whereupon, you never know, the batsman of the fine leg cut might give you a silver brooch to make up and a cucumber sandwich in the interval, while the groundsman solemnly interrs the offending rodent at a respectable depth and posthumously declares him the first
rabbit member of the MCC.

DJ Kirkby said...

Well now...I never thought I could be persueded to consider the possibility of enjoying cricket...however your post has managed exactly that! Have fun, love the image of you reclining with your knitting close to hand.

Sally's Chateau said...

Wretched spoilt pampered woman you, non-stop quaffing of champers with beloved minus T11, don't forget to slip in your pak a mac will you ? Oh.... and no way can I see YOU in lesbian sandals.

Exmoorjane said...

Much here to agree with (parents looking after - or rather not looking after - children - could go on about that for hours; the joy of putting dogs in Dog Prison etc) but also tons with which to disagree - have to say shoes and hats the only things (bar handbags and earrings) that I actually don't mind buying (as in they usually fit and don't make me look like a sack of lard). Also the enjoyment of cricket. I give you that it is a Good Thing to sit and do very little except eat and drink (I'll pass on the knitting - though that begs the question how do you see what's going on, any rash moment of excitement on the er, green? pitch? if you have your head stuck in a pile of yarn?) but I just don't get the whole innings and outings and random allocation of runs,and seemingly pointless running with big pads. But, given that I came round to rugby i suspect I may yet consider a rapprochement with cricket. Football I will never get.
Sorry, how have wonderful image of you as the vicar's wife in a flowerpot (a felt one with sagging flowers purchased from a Craft Shop of course). In fact, I feel next year's birthday presetn coming on.....(well it could be flat and is definitely soft).

Pipany said...

Hmm, my mother never helps out, love them tho she does. dave's ma is a godsend but you feel mean putting on her and so don't!

Lovely blog Milla and so deeply envious of the time away that I could sob!!! xxx

Pipany said...

Hmm, my mother never helps out, love them tho she does. dave's ma is a godsend but you feel mean putting on her and so don't!

Lovely blog Milla and so deeply envious of the time away that I could sob!!! xxx

Frog in the Field said...

Did you get a hat?
Potty Mummy has a nice warm one (it's bloody freezing today), never worn because it didn't snow...

ChrisH said...

You enjoy your cricket and I'll stick with rugby, thanks... although quaffing champagne from 11 sounds tempting. (How sweet that you and E always say such nice things about each other... Tom wouldn't even notice if I was wearing a hat. He might brighten up if I had sails attached to my head, sigh!).

LittleBrownDog said...

Delicious blog, as usual - the thought of offloading one's family responsibilities and swapping them for an ample bag of knitting appeals greatly. Although I'm not sure I could cope with cricket. I can never understand what's going on and by the time someone's begrudgingly explained to you what silly mid-off's doing in the deep covers (or whatever it is) they've either all gone in for tea or you've lost the will to live. At least I have. Champers, though, probably takes one's mind off the tedium of it all.

Have a fabulous time,

With deep envy

LBD xxx

KittyB said...

Lesbian sandals - nooooooo! I'm wheezing with distress here! Get some French Sole ballet flats, the low-cut sort that have neither a left nor right, they are the comfiest in the world. Or Ugg loafers (but not the common boots), but the sheepskin may be a tad warm for summer.
Happy days at the cricket - great for reading several books, or indeed knitting several wooly pullies.

nuttycow said...

I'm with you in spirit, listening, as I am, to Test Match Special.

Chilly day at Lords today. Hope you're wrapped up warm.

Wave hello to little boy Broad for me :)

Elizabethd said...

Cricket, said my husband, is still a gentleman's game, none of this kissing nonsense.
Hope you have a wonderful time, no one will see your shoes or lack of.

Faith said...

We have something in common as I'm not fond of shoes either and look like a bug under a mushroom in a hat. Don't like cricket though.

Blossomcottage said...

Me neither on the shoe fron, I only like the ones that are not suitable to be seen in public anymore, when they get to this stage, I quite enjoy wearing them, but then sadly I have to purchase new ones and the hate begins again! As for hats "yes like hats" but cricket Nah rather eat wasps!
Great Blog.

The Lehners in France said...

Who did you say you left your rabbit with? Do you think they'll take mine for bloody good! My husband's the vet that saved the bloody thing and it's me who mucks it out and its oh so necessary guinea pig friend. Bah Humbug ! Debs x

Lane said...

I hope there's a shot of you on the TV, sitting with your knitting and hat - not that I watch cricket but you never know:-)

Have a fab time away:-)

Frances said...

Oh Milla, I know that I left you a comment this morning. It wasn't so clever, but it did thank you for my cricket education.

Hoping that the weather was good for knitting and for champagne, and that good manners were rampant.

Anonymous said...

Oooh! Cricket. I'm feeling dewy eyed and nostalgic. Never mind the '..one woman to 1000 men, all of whom will behave impeccably..' part. It's been so terribly long that I struggle to remember what it's like to not have to ever-so-delicately protect 'me bits'.

Hope the rain held off.

Angel said...

I bloomin HATE cricket! Like football, and most other sports but NOT cricket!

We have never had any help with our boys other-mother in law likes to do her own thing too much and hardly sees the boys, even though they love her to bits. My boys won't get rid of me!-will always be offering to look after their kids.

And don't be so hard on yourself-I would have thought you would wear a hat rather well, my dear!


PS-didn't realise I'd missed previous blog so left a comment-it is ever so funny how your blogs seem even funnier now I have met you!

Maggie May said...

I hate cricket!
I hate hats but have to wear a sun hat if it gets very hot.
Would your mum like to take 2 more grandchildren to give us all a break! NO! I didn't mean it! They are luverly!!!!!!!!

WesterWitch/Headmistress said...

Hoooray go for it Milla - just get yourself there and forget everything - except tucking your vest in.

AND be very careful you get the bottle open before 12.00 we simply cannot have EVERYONE looking askance at one of our Gels . . .

Why is though that hats hate us . . . it used to be that whatever I dumped on my head looked cute, nowadays any hat just sits on my bonce and sniggers - meanwhile Wildchild can wear dog poo (don't try this at home) and somehow manages to look devastatingly chic.

CAMILLA said...

Hi Milla,

Oh good old Lordy's, remember it well, my MIL lived a stone's throw away when we lived in London. I love Cricket, something soothing and englishy about the game, men in white tosh, and innings and overs and all that.... Have a fab time with E, any old hat will do, hats..... I love them, the bigger the better. Reminds me of my daughter's wedding, she of no hat, me of a pale pink huge strawy thingy with flopsy flowers willowing from it.... Mother, only YOU could ever buy a HAT like that, she said. I don't do shoes, as long as they are flat, good enough.

Lol - in doggie prison, oooh, she will miss you, dont say it Milla.!!

Have a fab time, look forward to hearing all about it..... tennis next Milla.. YIPPEE.!!


@themill said...

Actually Milla, I think you should've taken a torch - somewhat murky it was, if I recall. And yes, it will most probably end in a draw today.
But knitting? At a cricket match? Nooooooo.....

Mean Mom said...

I can never just 'pop in' here, because it takes ages to read all of the comments! Hope you were at Lords for the good weather days! Funny that you should have mentioned a draw?? How did you guess?

Hats? Do they not spoil your lovely hairstyle? Shoes? Try to avoid shopping for them. I am size 2 1/2!!

Great and entertaining post. Hard to choose which bits to pick up on.

Pig in the Kitchen said...

too funny, and - er - 'hit an artery?' what's that all about. Your mother sounds formidable...when is lords, have a fab time?
(have i just said the cricketing c-word by asking when Lords is?!)

the mother of this lot said...

Oh, how I know that 'no'.


Imagine you were busy knitting a bobble hat just to keep warm....! Fat chance of sunburn, eh?

elizabethm said...

Love cricket because dont really need to watch and everyone, even barmy army, is nice to me.
Hope you enjoyed it, draw or not.

sea-blue-sky & abstracts said...

I'm still here plodding away, not willing to miss any of the funniest blog ever - alright, I did skip the Famous Five.

What's really worrying is that, as a child, I read all of the Famous Five and Secretive Seven books - they were exciting and addictive - but cannot recall any relevant, useful information about any of them! That's worrying. I'm drinking wine again - can you tell?

BFN. Lesley

sea-blue-sky & abstracts said...

PS And, if I had £600,000 I would be empowered, completely!!