Mrs. Fry's Diary Read online

  CONTENTS

  Mrs Fry’s Diary

  Title Page

  Imprint Page

  Dedication

  Foreword

  January

  February

  March

  April

  May

  June

  July

  August

  September

  October

  November

  December

  Acknowledgements

  About the author

  Mrs Fry’s Diary

  Mrs Stephen Fry

  www.hodder.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain in 2010 by Hodder & Stoughton

  An Hachette UK company

  Copyright © Mrs Stephen Fry 2010

  The right of Mrs Stephen Fry to be identified as the Author of the

  Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright,

  Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

  stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means

  without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise

  circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is

  published and without a similar condition being imposed on

  the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance

  to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  Epub ISBN 9781444720938

  Book ISBN 9781444720778

  Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

  338 Euston Road

  London NW1 3BH

  www.hodder.co.uk

  For Stephen and the bills.

  Foreword

  It’s always pleased me that my wife has had a hobby. I thought it was stitch-work she was doing. I had no idea she had written a book. That she did so using needle and thread rather than keyboard and computer, just to keep up the pretence, shows her commitment and force of character. I can’t pretend I’m pleased, but nor can I deny that I am proud. Damned proud. If she makes a habit of it or starts to embark on whistlestop publicity tours, I fear for the household and the children’s meals. But yes, I am proud. How much I enjoy or bemoan seeing my life delineated in such pitiless detail I shall leave you all to guess. But proud, yes, I am proud of the little woman. Bless her.

  Stephen Fry

  January

  1 Saturday

  Every January 1st is exactly the same – a cold grey afternoon, nothing on the telly and Stephen with his head down the toilet, belching the theme to Dr Zhivago. Must be Groundhogmanay. Apparently he spent the night unconscious in the S & M club car park. This morning I had to pay £50 to have his nipples unclamped.

  Made our New Year’s resolutions. Mine is to be even more patient and understanding than I already am and Stephen’s is to give up swearing. And kebabs. And karaoke. And tequila. And her at number 38. Now all I have to do is get him to sign it while he’s still only semi-conscious. Thank goodness for Citizens Advice. Who knew there was such a thing as a post-nup?

  2 Sunday

  Felching & Sons’ sale started today. Managed to get a few post-Christmas presents. A Tickle-Me-Kylie for Stephen Junior and a Nintendo Puu for little Brangelina – apparently it’s like a Wii, only you play it sitting down.

  3 Monday

  At last, the children are back at school. Or amusement arcade. Or wherever it is they go from Monday to Friday. And her at number 38’s husband’s away again, so Stephen’s shot out on his window-cleaning round.

  Enjoyed a nice cuppa this morning with a HobNob and Jeremy Kyle. There was a woman on there who’d been married 16 years without realising her husband was gay. Extraordinary! Which reminds me, it’s our 16th anniversary in a few weeks. What a coincidence. Personally, I think the key to a successful marriage is maintaining separate interests. I have my cooking, my pottery and my love of 19th-century literature and Stephen has his Razzle magazines.

  4 Tuesday

  Coffee this morning with Mrs Norton and Mrs Winton in the Cuppa Cabana. They do an excellent special Colombian blend – apparently the owner imports it herself from Bogotá. She gets a fresh delivery every week by courier. I have to say it’s a little too pungent for my tastes, although it certainly gives you a buzz. I prefer to go for the decaf, which, oddly, has the same effect.

  Popped into Foodland afterwards to pick up a few things. It really is the little woman’s paradise, just like they say on the commercials. They boast the lowest prices in the area and the widest range of artificial additives and chemicals of any supermarket chain. It certainly helps when you’re trying to stretch your meagre housekeeping, plus I have to get our food there anyway, as Stephen’s Waitrose intolerant.

  SHOPPING LIST:

  Spam – multipack

  Cup-a-Fruit

  I Can’t Believe It’s Not Lager

  It Ain’t Necessarily Soap

  Bedroom ceiling mirror polish

  5 Wednesday

  Twelfth Night. We took the Christmas decorations down today. I say we – I took the decorations down. If I waited for Stephen to do it, the house would still be looking like an elves’ lap-dancing club in July. It took him three years just to put that bookshelf up. It’ll probably be another three before he buys a book.

  6 Thursday

  Goodness, what a day for a power cut! Stephen and I were freezing this morning. Our bedroom was like an ice box. Fortunately, the kids were fine. We never switch on the heater in their bedroom anyway, otherwise they won’t feel the benefit when they go outside. It was so cold, Stephen had no choice but to go to work and I was forced to spend the afternoon with Mrs Winton in her maisonette. She told me all about this new Reiki fortune teller she’s just started seeing. First she gives you an intense scalp massage, then she reads your dandruff. I’d love to have my scalp massaged some time, but apparently they can’t do it without removing your hat.

  7 Friday

  Topless Tequila Karaoke at Sombrero’s tonight. I never go with Stephen. I always get so nervous when he performs. Besides, it’s impossible to get babysitters, especially since the ASBOs. It’s the regional quarter finals tonight. No doubt, if Stephen nails Lady Gaga on the mechanical bull, I’ll have a semi to deal with …

  Past midnight now. No sign of Stephen. Knowing him, he’ll have gone on to a club to celebrate or drown his sorrows. I do hope he doesn’t come back in one of his kinky moods again. Last week he insisted we try a bit of bondage. Can’t say it did anything for me. I bruised my knee on the sideboard and he ended up in Halfords. Perhaps next time only one of us should wear a blindfold.

  8 Saturday

  Oh dear. Stephen smeared his you-know-what with superglue again last night. I’d love to tell someone about it but my lips are sealed.

  9 Sunday

  Typical Sunday morning. Stephen was in his Rudolph Valentino mood this week – he insisted I join him in his ‘tent of love’. Of course, it was just a bed sheet before he got excited. I do wish he’d give up this roleplay malarkey. If it’s not doctor and receptionist, it’s gladiator and slave girl or aerobics instructor and regional head of town planning. The other week he wanted us to play amusement arcade manager and naughty schoolgirl. Well, I thought. In for a penny …

  Managed to persuade Stephen to drive me to Ikea in the afternoon – I told him it was the new Apple gadget. Unfortunately, he had one of his panic attacks in the store. I’d forgotten all about his claustrophobia. And fear of anything Swedish. It all stems, apparently, from the time he was stuck in a lift with ABBA.

&
nbsp; In the end, it took two puffs on his inhaler and half my Valium to calm him down. Thank goodness we didn’t go in my sister’s Volvo. Still, it gave me time to get the tea cosy I was looking for (or, as they call it, SchlurpWully) and I found a lovely new bedside lamp (LiteFondl). Ironically, next to the futon Stephen fell asleep on (NobEd).

  10 Monday

  We told Stephen Junior that he’s adopted this evening. He isn’t, but there was nothing on TV.

  11 Tuesday

  Read an article about how some frustrated women use cooking to compensate for the lack of … well … marital shenanigans. How ridiculous!

  Cooking one of my favourite dishes today. Here’s the recipe:

  Spam Rumpy Pumpy

  A robust, filling and intensely satisfying dish. Serves one.

  Ingredients:

  1 family-sized tin Spam, opened

  Extra slutty olive oil

  500 ml whipping cream

  Zest of 2 Jif lemons

  Allspice

  Pre-rolled sponge

  2 dozen oysters

  1.5 litres Blue Nun

  1. Preset washing machine to mark 8.

  2. Carefully ease meat out of can and lay on flat surface. Season, rolling and teasing gently until lightly flustered.

  3. When you have the required length, braise tenderly, slowly raising the heat until sufficient hardening occurs and the juices begin to flow. Firmly rub in oil to maintain optimum moistness.

  4. Fill your bowl with cream and whip into frenzy, adding a little zest. Smear over meat and sponge gently.

  5. Fold and toss vigorously until completely engorged. Leave to bubble away. Drink Blue Nun, eat oysters and lean against washing machine until thoroughly drizzled.

  6. Serve with broccoli, new potatoes and a cigarette.

  12 Wednesday

  Went to the cinema this evening. It was a choice between a Woody Allen film and Avatar, but I can’t stand those ridiculous glasses, so we watched Avatar.

  13 Thursday

  Brangelina’s so cute. Apparently at school today she had a playground wedding. Her best friend LaToya was the head bridesmaid, her little classmate Shane played the groom (looking a little worse for wear after yesterday’s playground stag night), the deputy head Miss Morgan officiated and the school solicitor drew up the pre-nup. They even had a professional photographer. I say professional, more an enthusiastic amateur. Long Range Len did a lovely job if you ignore the railings and his net curtain. It’s so nice to see children using their imaginations. Next week they’re having a playground divorce.

  14 Friday

  Just discovered a packet of little blue pills in Stephen’s pocket. I’ve told him to think long and hard before taking them.

  15 Saturday

  The twins’ birthday today. Sadly, we were too late to book a party at Build-A-Bear so we went to Do-A-Doll instead. Asbo and Subo had a lovely time. The place was festooned with balloons – all the colours of the rainbow and ribbed for our pleasure. The staff did a tremendous job, leading enthusiastic renditions of ‘Happy Birthday’, ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ and ‘Eskimo Nell’. They’d arranged party games – Pass the Parcel and Pin the Tail on Donkey Dave – and Booboo the clown was a big hit with his highly creative and anatomically precise balloon animals.

  After the party food, the children all got to inflate their own doll and they could even choose the colour of its ultra-realistic hair. The two hours flew by – Stephen particularly enjoyed Sally the Stripping Squirrel – and everyone went home happy with a party bag filled with all sorts of weird and wonderful toys. A great success!

  16 Sunday

  A nice, relaxing day. I must remember to thank Mrs Winton for putting me on to that feng shui. I have to say it really works! I feel so much calmer since we moved the children’s beds into the garage.

  17 Monday

  Had a lovely lunch with Mrs Norton at the new vegetarian restaurant on the high street, Debbie Does Salad. Very peculiar, though. She said she’d been watching television the other night and seen someone who looked the spitting image of my Stephen. And he wasn’t on Crimewatch or Police, Benefit Cheats, Action. Some intellectual quiz programme called Mock Your IQ or something. Apparently this chap’s the host. Must remember to Sky Plus it.

  Decided to take a break from the kitchen and have a takeaway tonight. No luck. Tried to order a Domino’s pizza but they had no delivery boys available. Apparently one of them had an accident. He fell over, knocking another one over, who knocked another one over …

  18 Tuesday

  Stephen Junior’s Parents’ Evening today. It was so lovely to finally meet his teacher, Ms Woolley, after her extended leave. I must say she’s looking a lot better now. She finally seems to have that twitch under control. She seemed terribly pleased with Stephen Junior’s progress this year, or at least the two weeks she’s spent with him. She did say he was struggling a bit with his English, but then he gets that from his father. And he’s also struggling with his Maths. And his Geography. And his History. And his Science. But he looks set for a grade C in Metalwork and Domestic Violence and apparently, he’s already got an ADHD so I was terribly proud. The meeting went swimmingly – unlike his swimming – until Ms Woolley suggested that his results and general demeanour might benefit from a better diet. I’m afraid the rest of the evening is a bit of a blur.

  19 Wednesday

  Saw Ms Woolley again. I must say the ward looked delightful – lovely wallpaper. I don’t know what came over me. Took her a batch of my special lemon ketchup brownies to cheer her up.

  20 Thursday

  Had to buy another box of Kleenex for Hugh Junior today. I blame myself. Last time I cleared up his bedroom floor, I accidentally dropped 50 pence. Now he thinks there’s a sperm fairy. It’s costing me a fortune.

  21 Friday

  I’ve been telling Stephen for months to get his glasses fixed. If it wasn’t for his homing instinct he’d never even make it to the Red Lion’s Karaoke Night, although he still managed to win, somehow. Apparently the audience loved his renditions of ‘I’ve Got You Under My Sink’ and ‘Some Whore Over the Rainbow’.

  22 Saturday

  What an exciting day! After months of waiting, the new shopping mall – the Shangri-la Centre – finally opened this morning. It’s in the industrial estate just off the ring road. It took a while to find it because the sat nav in the Transit’s broken (Stephen tried to feed it curry sauce last week on the way back from the dog track). If it hadn’t been for Stephen Junior’s ankle tracking bracelet we’d never have found it. I must say, though, it was definitely worth the three-and-a-half-hour journey. It was a spectacular affair. They had a ventriloquist and a meat raffle. All the local papers were there and the centre was officially opened by Cristal Braithwaite from series seven of Big Brother, who cut a giant credit card in two. Sadly, Stephen had to stay in the car park until she had finished, due to the restraining order. Oddly, one passer-by asked me why Stephen hadn’t been asked to open it himself. Silly man. As if anyone would want a window cleaner to open a shopping mall! He has enough trouble opening his own front door most nights.

  After the grand opening, we wandered around the centre. It was breathtaking – all gleaming and white, like a giant A & E department. And there was barely any graffiti or vomit. They had every shop you could want, all under one roof. If it had a roof – apparently, that’s due to be finished in April.

  We skipped excitedly in and out of Primark, 90pWorld and Tattoos ‘R’ Us before finally heading over to the food court. And what an array greeted us there! All the major fast-food chains – The Toast Factory, Yo! Mince and Sandwich! Sandwich! Sandwich! In the end, we settled on a Bucket o’ Cheddar from Cheese Louise. Of course, it couldn’t compare with my culinary masterpieces, but it definitely hit the spot.

  I have to say it was a truly magical day out. We so rarely get the chance to do something like that as a family, what with Stephen being banned from the bowling alley, the municipal swimming pool
and France.

  23 Sunday

  How annoying. Was about to watch that IQ programme Mrs Norton was going on about, when Stephen’s foot accidentally slipped through the television screen. That’s the third time this month. Thank goodness his mate, Reasonably Honest Al, seems to have an endless supply of the things.

  24 Monday

  Record takings for Stephen on his window-cleaning round today. Passers-by kept throwing money into his bucket – they thought he was a living statue. Honestly, that man’s so lazy. He even gets his Razzle magazine on audiobook. He particularly enjoys the Listeners’ Wives section.

  My mother rang this evening. She’s off to Fuengirola with her pool cleaner next week and she wanted my advice about bikini waxing. She’s thinking of having a Brazilian, but I think at her age it can be a bit of a grey area.

  25 Tuesday

  Had a phone call from Mrs Norton this morning. She said she was busy on her computer the other night – cancelling more of Graham’s Lithuanian brides – and she found something called Twitter. She says Stephen’s on it. A lot, apparently. And all this time I thought he was just gambling away our holiday savings on Texas Hold ’Em. Some kind of social network thingummybob, she says. I’d better check out his laptop. Goodness only knows what a barely literate window cleaner has to write about.

  Oh my giddy aunt! I’ve just looked at what Stephen’s been writing on this Twitter thing. Opera this, concertos that. That man and his imagination! I don’t know where he gets it all. According to him, the other night he was at the Royal Albert Hall enjoying a scintillating interpretation of Der Ring des Nibelungen’s Götterdämmerung, when I know for a fact he was down the King’s Head. He never misses Half-price Bacardi Breezer and Pork Scratchings Night. I must say, all this is very troubling. It’s almost as if I don’t know the real him at all. Perhaps we should be doing more things together. Things that don’t involve banana flavoured lubrication.

  26 Wednesday

  Time to do the washing. Just realised Stephen’s still wearing his December pants. Spam Bourguignon for dinner.

  27 Thursday

  Incredibly, I managed to persuade Stephen to come with me to the local community college open night tonight. I’ve decided to enrol on Creative Writing for the Middle-Aged Housewife, while Stephen’s plumped for Intermediate Spinster Spanking.