Sigh. The best-laid plans of witches, and, well, others. I was going to do a Lucy Mangan tonight, by which I mean take a leaf out of her book – are we having fun yet? – and do as she does. I mean her fictional female character Liz. Liz wants nothing more than to be left in peace, and a night on her own in a hotel seems like heaven. (For me though, it was Omicron that got in the way, and I am no longer required to babysit Daughter’s work laptop while she has fun at the ‘office’ Christmas party, as the party is now going to be hot chocolate online.)
But, I must say that Lucy, no, I mean Liz, has a lovely husband. I’m not sure he’s meant to be, and yes, he’s useless at so much, like most of his brethren. But he understands her so well, even if he has to be reminded of stuff every now and then. He’s kind. When Liz wants to live her dream of a cold Bonfire night out, and dresses her children accordingly, and they get too hot, Richard tells their five-year-old to ‘boil quietly’ so she doesn’t spoil mummy’s evening. And for poor Richard’s birthday the family bake him a somewhat ruined cake, which he eats with manly determination. “‘I thought it was a Frisbee covered in shit!’ he says cheerfully. ‘Biting into it and finding it was actually made of food was a nice surprise.'”
This diary style, a year in the life of Liz and her family, is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. The shit cake episode made me laugh so much I cried. The rest of the time I found myself nodding in agreement with Liz as she remarked on what Richard said, or the children, or the [mean] mums at school. Liz has two children. I believe that is the main difference between Liz and Lucy. Her parents are remarkably similar to Lucy’s, as is her sister.
I know that people are often like each other, but this is wonderful! Liz thinks almost exactly the same intelligent thoughts that I do.
I thought I was alone. And I’m not.