Other news...

Other news just in....

I am living with a man.... it is true... he moved in yesterday... he is the latest recruit to the 'single parent house' and he is single father to a 3 year-old boy. And... the M-Au pair (Male au pair) will be starting in two weeks.

Fab.
We needed some men, it was all getting a bit too female.

Home and Away

Generally I am not homesick. I don't wake up thinking: "I shouldn't have done this." Or: "I'm a lonely old mare." Or: "What a bitch of a mother I am for ripping my child from everything he knows." But I am so looking forward to going home next week, even if Jack and I will be couch surfing.

I do miss the Manchester rain.

It is sunnier in the south east. And warmer. Today for example I am wearing a summer dress with tights. I am sitting in a cafe surrounded by mums with friends. The groups gossip frantically. If I want a conversation, I have to use my mobile phone. If I want to order a coffee, I have to ask twice because no one understands my northern drawl. I miss the rain because the rain makes everything feel washed and clean. Here in South East London the streets are dusty. Midges swarm around my feet and I am perpetually scratching some part of my body because I am covered in insect bites. I shower twice a day, but still I can't scrub the urban film from my skin. My hair constantly feels matted. Other people's belongings straddle the streets, when people no longer have a use for something, they just leave it on wall. Which is a grubby thing to do. But then I am grubby because I have so far accumulated a portable TV, a chest of drawers, and a desk from other people's bins.

I am almost getting there on the friend thing... because now Nancy has moved here, I have one friend. (It's her birthday today, Happy Birthday Nancy!). I do have a few old Manchester chums here but they live far, far north of the River Thames and say thing like: I'm not going south of the river. I by the way live South of the River.

Little did I know that by making the decision to live in a house with a garden, rather than a flat with a history of violence, I would be segregating myself from the young, cool people of London town.

Luckily, Mancunians pass through the capital at an astounding rate and do not possess such South of the River nonsense. Perhaps I could happily continue not knowing anyone residing in London, and instead pretend I live in Stockport.

Yesterday morning, because I was bored, I went to the House of Commons for a forum on "The Russian Threat". As I haven't got a job, or clever people to talk to, I'm trying to keep my brain working whatever way I can. The forum started at 9.30am. I arrived early. By 11.30 I had brain freeze and so left with an hour to go.

From what I gather.... RUSSIA is a THREAT... but the RUSSIANS understandably feel rather smarted by this attitude. Especially as they were being talked about as though they are an alien, sub normal specie.

This morning Jack will be appearing in the class assembly as Nelson Mandela. He said none of the other kids wanted that role, they wanted to be the ones who locked Nelson Mandela away. So I should finish the last of my coffee, and this blog post, and go...

Baby Blues

Last night I had the most awful dream about Toga. I haven't written about him for a while because quite frankly T** B&&&&&d **** ^^ £££££. And also, it would seem like public gossiping.

I could, instead, tell you about the amazing party I went to at a mansion, where the hostess employed a string quartet and silver service staff: 'Why the party?' I asked the hostess, in her billiard room, as we chatted by a wacky sculpture. 'No reason, I just thought we'd have a party,' she replied. The cost of the party was probably equivalent to my annual salary.

Or I could tell you about Toga.

Or I could tell you about the Friday night Nancy and I spent in a kebab bar being cavorted by Canadians and Londoners til 4am, or I could tell you about the fab gig we went to where Jack and I mooched backstage and at the after show party. Or that yesterday I had a mum date. I met the mum at the mansion party and she invited me for dinner. How lovely. Never in Manchester did any mums invite me for dinner - and they had known me for years.

Or I could tell you about Toga.

The dream lasted for what seemed like hours. Toga and I were strolling around the shops (I think it was Stretford Arndale, not the swishest place on earth), I was doing my giddy thing where I instantly fall for him despite his tw*^tish behaviour. Then he said, "I've got something to show you." And revealed that he had baby Maddox (Brangelina's child) strapped to his chest. Then he asked me if I could hold the baby, and find the baby some shoes. I was doing my best to smile and coo coo to the baby, but I just didn't have the heart for it. All the time I was holding the baby, he became heavier and heavier, until soon he had grown to the size and weight of a toddler and I was stooped over because I just couldn't carry the baby anymore. Then Toga looked at me and smiled in that way he has, then I was torn between holding the baby, or walking away.

Anyway, when I woke this morning, I lay in bed trying to gather myself before Jack woke. I wanted to close my eyes so I could see Toga again. So I did, and he was there. And so was baby Maddox. Then I opened my eyes and they were gone. I made a cup of tea. Took Jack to school. Came home.

That dream bothers me, it's too rooted in reality.
Toga and I aren't friends at the moment. He says I'm being a 'Drama Queen'. But actually I'm just hurt. The words fingers and fire spring to mind.

School Meals

In light of below (TES DRAMA hits SOUTH LONDON VILLAGE, read all about it), the government has announced that to combat obesity and a paucity of knowledge, all children aged 7-16 will be eating broadsheet newspapers for school lunch. This will come into effect on November 1st 2008. BBQ dipping sauce will be provided.

TES

Oh my days... a huge DRAMA has just broken out at the library.

"Someone has STOLEN the TES. SOMEONE has taken the Times Educational Supplement," panicked a librarian.
"That is theft!" observed another.

Right this very second, a frantic hunt is on for the Times Educational Supplement, at the same time a toddler is coughing like he is about to choke. From this I, Miss Plum, deduce that...

The TODDLER
Has EATEN the Times Educational Supplement
In the LIBRARY

Hot, hot, hot

When I entered the library I was going to blog about something, what was it again? ... Oh I've forgotten now. You're going to have to humour me, I'm a little flustered...

I shall explain why I am in the library. I am in the library because as we are going through a *recession - we are you know, it's not a 'credit crunch'... because if you don't want credit then that term doesn't apply on a personal level. It's not an economic downturn either.... banks are actually shutting up shop... therefore the economy is on the verge of crisis... therefore... and I don't even want more credit, I have too much already thanks and still they offer me loans and cards etc... we are on the rim of a big black recession... which could simply be called 'The Crunch'.

So I am in the library. Because of The Crunch I have cancelled broadband, this is because a BT phone line is too expensive. Here in the library I am not using our gas at home. At the library it is so hot I'm wearing a summer dress to keep cool. Even though it is daylight every light in the building is on. My laptop is plugged in sucking up the library juice. In the library I can't snack all the time, so I eat less food. I also get to read lots of newspapers (thus not having to go the newsagent), and lots of books, thus not having to go to a bookshop. And when I need the toilet, I use their loo roll not ours. All in all, it's a great deal here at the library. It's the best deal on the high street.

* Disclaimer: I am by no means an economist in the financial sense of the word, I simply understand that a bag of Basmati rice is now £3, and a loaf of bread £1.30.

I was going to blog about the conversation Nancy and I had last night.

The one during which I said: "I haven't got my taxi light on because I feel like a plum. And who would want to date a plum?"
And Nancy said, "You do not look like a plum, we need to stop that."

Nancy is here in London by the way. She's moving to the trendy part of town near Madonna & co. At present, Nancy is in the library too. She is sitting at the desk across from me.

And next to Nancy...
I'm going to get to the point in a minute...
Is an incredibly handsome man. He just leaned over me to plug his laptop into one of the public sockets. Over the other side of the sockets is another man, also handsome, but not as slick as the first man.
The handsome man is on my left. He is sitting between me and Nancy. I don't think she has really noticed him yet.

I am telling you, I swear to God, he was giving me the eye.

New Love

Yesterday I was feet up on the sofa, a little tired and woozy from my boozy lunch, because I had half a cow in my stomach.


"What time is it?" asked Jack.
"Almost six, why?"
"Nothing."

Then Jack went upstairs to get his mobile, and the charger, and returned to watch the Simpsons. Every few minutes he looked at his phone.

"Are you waiting for someone to call?"
"Maybe," he said
"You are, aren't you!" I teased.
"Yes."
"Is it a girl?"
"Hmph," he grinned.
"Is it the girl you told me about? What is her name?"
"Forgot."
"Her name is 'Forgot'... kids have really funny names down here."
"Her name is not 'Forgot' I've forgotten her name."


This morning as we went to school, I asked: "Did she call then?"
"No," Jack laughed.
I pulled him to me and kissed his forehead.
"Thanks for that," he said, "when you pulled me you moved my foot and saved me from standing in dog muck."
"Saved by a kiss."
"Yes... she's always saying she's going to call and doesn't call!" he chuckled.
"Do you find that funny?"
"Yehs!!"

So we are at the beginning of a new romance... and he's been chosen to join the school council. He will be tackling homework issues (not enough, according to Jack - even though he hates homework) and swearing in the playground.

The Big Plan

The Big Plan is this:

Tomorrow I'm gonna feast like a girl in need of some decadent spoiling.

My schedule is:

Wine at 1pm
Oysters at 1.30pm
A great big slab of bloody meat at 1.48pm
A chocolate pudding at 1.59pm

And shameless flirting with the bar staff.

Wish me luck, I'll be asleep by six.