How to Have an Almost Perfect Marriage Read online

  Another way to ensure the health of your little ones is through their diet. From the moment my children were born, I gave them only the very best food – Cot Noodle. It comes in a variety of delicious flavours and encourages bone growth and strong teeth. On special occasions, I even added boiling water. I spoil them, really I do.

  As they get older, it can be more difficult to persuade your children to eat healthily. This is where you need to use a little imagination and creativity to make mealtimes more fun. One highly successful method I discovered was to stick sequins on their carrots and broccoli – I call it a ‘vegazzle’.

  SCHOOL REPORTS

  Your child has just come running in from school, with a huge grin on their face, and a glowing school report clasped in their excited fist. But before you get too excited, I have one question for you…What is that like? After more years of motherhood than I care to remember, I’ve only ever received two school reports – both from Hugh Junior who, unlike the rest of our brood, somehow seems to have escaped the Stephen gene altogether. Of course, I’ve rung the school to ask where the children’s reports are but their responses range from ‘Well, we gave it to them. Perhaps they lost it on the way home’ to ‘Who?’

  If you are fortunate enough to receive your child’s school report intact and stain-free, how should you react? My answer would be, with caution. Today’s teachers lead a hectic, stressful life and they have no desire to increase this stress by provoking a pupil’s parents. Very often the slightest thing can influence what they write about your child – their father holding the entire staff hostage in a stock cupboard and forcing them to listen to Michael Bolton, to give one completely random example.

  In order to avoid such totally-imagined-for-the-sake-of-argument confrontations as this, teachers have perfected a language of their own, not dissimilar to ‘office speak’ where the true meaning is submerged in a sea of indecipherable gobbledegook. To help you interpret your child’s report, here is a short Teacher-to-Parent translation guide. For no reason other than ease of understanding, I’ve inserted my own children’s names into the example phrases.

  Stephen Junior pays close attention to woodwork –

  He enjoys licking the window frames

  Asbo has engaged in a number of scientific activities –

  One is a number

  Viennetta has completed the R.E. curriculum satisfactorily –

  She may have turned up once or twice. It doesn’t really matter – it’s not a real subject, is it?

  Subo has an enthusiastic attitude to learning –

  She runs around the classroom making train noises

  Stephen Junior has an enquiring mind –

  He keeps asking to go to the toilet

  Brangelina is a challenging child –

  She keeps challenging the other children to fights. And the teachers. And the police.

  KEEPING THEM ENTERTAINED

  This is one of the rare few areas of parenthood on which Stephen and I disagree. While, generally, I believe that they should be left to amuse themselves wherever possible, Stephen loves entertaining our children. Only last week he kept them enthralled for hours, making balloon animals. Eventually the helium canister ran out but the kids still had hours of fun trying to get the cat and gerbils down from the ceiling. And he likes nothing better than a rainy Sunday afternoon indoors playing games with them. Poker’s his favourite because, as he says, it’s not only fun but profitable (it’s also the reason we use the term ‘lend’ rather than ‘give’ pocket money), although he’s equally happy to play Which Raindrop Will Reach the Bottom of the Window Pane First or Hungry Hippos.

  Occasionally I join in too, provided I’m not already occupied with cooking Sunday lunch or doing the washing up after Sunday lunch or complaining that Stephen never does the washing up after Sunday lunch, although I prefer board games as they’re a true family experience – plenty of squabbling and competitive violence. Like most households, after years of use most of our games have the odd item missing but we’ve managed to combine the remaining pieces to create the perfect family game – Trivial Cluedopolobblextric. We even had a few random extra bits left over so we made another game – we called it Mouse Trap, although we don’t play that very often as it takes ages to set up and only a few minutes to play. Although it is quite good at catching mice.

  chapter seven

  Getting Away From It All

  HOBBIES AND PASTIMES

  In today’s world, it’s important to take a little time every now and again to smell the roses – or anything other than soiled nappies and stale kebabs. It’s all too easy for modern married couple to fill their lives with work and forget to allow time for leisure. This could be in the form of a hobby or pastime, maybe a craft or a sport, possibly a night school course of some description – it doesn’t really matter what it is as long as you do it separately. In the early days of our marriage I made the mistake of enrolling Stephen and myself on a pottery course together. Unfortunately, he had only recently seen Ghost and we were asked to leave.

  THE SHED

  This is why the shed is such a crucial element of the matrimonial home. Without it, a husband would have to smoke in the house, read his dubious magazines in the house and, simply, spend more time in the house. In truth, I haven’t the faintest idea what Stephen gets up to in his shed and I don’t want to know, provided it doesn’t involve too many women or firearms. I’m just glad to have him out from under my feet. Without it, he’d be stuck on the sofa all hours of the day between last orders and opening time.

  GENEALOGY

  One hobby I’ve taken up recently is genealogy – the study of your family tree. Although I have to say Stephen’s is more like a forest – not dissimilar to the one in The Wizard of Oz. My interest was awakened by television programmes such as Don’t You Know Who I Am?, in which minor celebrities trace their ancestral roots and cry a lot.

  By contrast, I find the process thoroughly uplifting. It’s fascinating to discover what various generations of my family did for a living. For example, in the early 20th century, my Great Aunt Agatha left the country to find employment in Hollywood. Apparently, she worked behind the scenes on a number of specialist, low-budget productions. I’m not entirely sure what her job entailed (so many of these film industry occupations have odd names such as ‘best boy’ and ‘grip’) but according to my research she was employed as a fluffer. Sadly, she soon returned to England so I assume she never made it big.

  AMATEUR DRAMATICS

  Another interest of mine is the stage and, while I could never hope to do anything on a professional basis given my family commitments, I gain a great deal of pleasure from my association with our local amateur dramatic group, ‘Curtains for Oscar’. They specialise in the works of one of my favourite playwrights, Oscar Wilde, and I was delighted to be given the starring role of Lady Blenkinsopp in an acclaimed performance of his rarely-seen unfinished play about the exorcism of a young girl, Whatever Possessed Her? For those unfamiliar with the piece, I have reproduced a scene from the final act for your enjoyment and education.

  lady blenkinsopp: Certainly the young gentleman to whom you refer does appear to have turned my god-niece’s head somewhat. Somewhat more than 360 degrees unless I’m very much mistaken. Desist immediately, Millicent. You know how I disapprove of such revolutionary activity.

  millicent: Blaaarrgghh! (sound of vomiting) Your mother cuts frocks in Hull!

  lady blenkinsopp: Oh my word, I feel quite faint. Come down from the ceiling at once, Millicent! A lady should never rise above her station…or her bedstead. What is the meaning of this unseemly behaviour?

  millicent: I’m terribly sorry, my dearest god-auntie. I know not what ails me. Perchance, I have a touch of the influenza?

  cedric: I think that, perhaps, Lady Blenkinsopp, I may be in a position to furnish
you with an explanation of sorts for Miss Arbuthnot’s somewhat unconventional demeanour.

  lady blenkinsopp: Then do so immediately, Mr deAlgernon, before my god-niece sees fit to propel her partially-digested elevenses upon my bosom a further time.

  cedric: I am very much distressed, madam, to admit that on the evening of October the 25th, I found myself on the platform of Victoria station. The northern line.

  lady blenkinsopp: The line is immaterial.

  cedric: And it was while waiting for the 7:38 to Norfolk that my eye was caught by a particularly well-endowed, partially-dressed young lady, casually propelling about her wrist a small leather handbag of Eastern European origin.

  lady blenkinsopp: A hand…?

  cedric (interrupting): Indeed. So, being a true gentleman, I approached her and offered her my coat…and sixteen shillings and thruppence.

  lady blenkinsopp: Am I to assume from this tiresome preamble that the young lady of whom you speak was a female of somewhat easy virtue?

  cedric: I am very much ashamed to say that she was, Lady Blenkinsopp, and that we engaged in an act of a prurient nature in the left luggage office.

  lady blenkinsopp: My dear fellow. Are you incompletely sane? I trust that was the extent of your indiscretion.

  cedric: Absolutely. Completely. That is, until an additional young lady proceeded to join us in what I believe is commonly referred to in modern parlance as a threesome?

  lady blenkinsopp: A threesome? In my day, a gentleman considered himself extremely fortunate to engage in a onesome, and then only on public holidays. Mr deAlgernon, to engage in carnal activity with one prostitute can be regarded as a misfortune, to engage with two looks like perversion – a quality to be very much admired in the modern gentleman. And is it a preconception to suppose that a prophylactic was deployed on this occasion?

  cedric: It is, and indeed was, very much a pre-conception, Lady Blenkinsopp. Alas, one of the ladies fell with child that very evening, although I very much regret to say that I know not which, and so, while I remain very definitely your god-niece’s father it pains me to say that the identity of her mother remains a mystery. So, not wishing the dear, unfortunate child to suffer the torment and ignominy of a cruel society, I did what any right thinking and loyal father would do, I put her up for adoption. A lovely gentleman – a Mr Lucifus J Beelzebeast.

  lady blenkinsopp: Well, I am relieved to hear that, at least. And is that the end of the story?

  cedric: Absolutely, my dear Lady Blenkinsopp. Unless you count the lovely young lady I accidentally met by the docks this morning. But that was merely for the administering of manual relief.

  lady blenkinsopp: A hand…?

  Unfortunately, the play ends at this point, poor Oscar unable to complete it due to ill-fitting trousers. Being a keen and not untalented wordsmith, I offered to supply the remaining lines myself but, try as I might, I simply couldn’t imagine what Lady Blenkinsopp’s next word may have been and so, I’m afraid, it remains unfinished.

  However, despite my inability to conclude the work, the attempt did re-awaken my literary ambitions and I proceeded to create my very own piece for the group to perform. It was a play loosely based on my own experiences and one which, if I say so myself, was received with incredulity by its one and only audience. In fact, I was so pleased with it, I even sent the script to several Hollywood studios but as of yet I haven’t heard back from any of them (I imagine this is what other screenwriters call ‘development hell’). As I suspect it could be several months before you are afforded the opportunity to see the movie for yourself, here is what I believe they call in the trade, a little teaser…

  WHEN EDNA MET STEPHEN (AGAIN)

  A warm summer evening. Edna has just paid Stephen’s bail following his arrest for persistent ukulele-playing and telling girls on the Spiffing Burberry railway station platform to smile. They enter a small, insalubrious kebab shop.

  stephen: Thank you. No-one’s ever been so kind to me before.

  edna: I understand.

  stephen: Understand what?

  edna: Oh, nothing.

  stephen: What?

  edna: Forget about it, dear.

  stephen: Forget about what?

  edna: It’s not important, really.

  stephen: Just tell me.

  edna: Well, it’s just that you obviously haven’t had a good friend before.

  stephen: Yes I have.

  edna: I don’t think you have, dear.

  stephen: It just so happens that I have had plenty of good friends!

  edna: Really? Who, may I ask?

  stephen: What?

  edna: With whom did you have these wonderful friendships?

  stephen: I…I…I’m not going to tell you!

  edna: Fine, dear. Don’t tell me.

  kebab shop owner: Hello, my friend. What can I get for you?

  stephen: See? Here’s one.

  edna: Really? And what’s his name?

  stephen: (long pause)…Kebab Shop…Man

  edna: Ah.

  stephen: Anyway, I’ll have the King Kong Kebab with chilli sauce and garlic mayonnaise and large chips.

  kebab shop owner: One King Kong and chips for my good friend, Mr Stephen.

  stephen: But I’d like the meat shaved from the top of the lump and I don’t want the garlic mayonnaise all over, I want it on the side and I’d like naan bread instead of pitta bread if you have it if not then no garlic mayo just regular mayo but only if it’s real if it’s salad cream otherwise nothing.

  kebab shop owner: Not even the chips?

  stephen: No, just the chips, but no vinegar.

  kebab shop owner: Oh…kay, whatever you say, Mr Stephen.

  edna: You’re a very unusual person.

  stephen: Thank you.

  edna: It wasn’t a compliment.

  stephen: Are you sure?

  edna: Well, maybe just a little…

  stephen: I knew it – you were chatting me up!

  edna: I most certainly was not! Can’t a woman say a man is unusual without it being a chat-up line? In that case I take it back.

  stephen: You can’t take it back.

  edna: Why not?

  stephen: Because I can’t hear you taking it back…(he sticks his fingers in his ears) La-la-la-la-la…See?

  edna: Oh good grief.

  stephen: (taking his fingers out of his ears and licking one) So are we going to sleep together now? I mean after the kebab, of course.

  edna: Certainly not! We can never do…you-know-what.

  stephen: You-know-which?

  edna: You-know-exactly-what.

  stephen: Oh, you-know-that!

  edna: Precisely.

  stephen: But why not? It wouldn’t mean anything.

  edna: My dear man, men and women can never do you-know-what without it meaning anything because the friendship part always gets in the way.

  stephen: That’s not true, I’ve done it hundreds of times and there’s never been any friendship involved.

  edna: No you haven’t.

  stephen: Yes I have.

  edna: You most certainly have not.

  stephen: Yes I have.

  edna: You only think you have.

  stephen: You’re saying I was friends with all those women without knowing it?

  edna: No, what I’m saying is they all wanted to be friends with you. Though heavens only knows why.

  stephen: They did not!

  edna: I’m afraid they did, dear.

  stephen: They did not!

  edna: They did indeed.

  stephen: How do you know?

  edna: Because no woman can have meaningless you-know-what with a man she finds…unusual. She always wants to be friends with him.

  stephen: So you’re saying that a woman can have meaningless ‘you-know-what’ with a man she finds…usual?

  edna: No, you pretty much want to be friends with them too.

  stephen: What if they don�
��t want to be friends with you?

  edna: It doesn’t matter because the friendship thing is already out there so the you-know-what is ultimately doomed and that, my dear, is the end of the story.

  stephen: Well I guess we’re not going to be doing it then.

  edna: Correct.

  stephen: That’s too bad. I’ve just started wearing my summer pants. And the other night I made love to this woman, and it was so incredible that I took her to a place that wasn’t human. She actually mooed.

  edna: You made a woman moo? (Stephen raises his forefingers to his head to simulate horns and bellows like a bull) Oh, dear lord.

  stephen: You’re telling me no-one’s ever made you moo?

  edna: Certainly not.

  stephen: Low a little…?

  edna: Don’t be disgusting.

  stephen: So what do you do, exactly? With your…gentleman friends.

  edna: Not that it’s any of your business, I’m sure, but I generally take them to an art gallery. Or glass-blowing factory. Then perhaps a tea room. Nothing like this place. (smiles at the kebab shop owner) No offence, Mr Man, dear.

  kebab shop owner: None taken, my friend.

  stephen: And do you think they have a good time?

  edna: Of course they do.

  stephen: How do you know?

  edna: What do you mean how do I know? I know.

  stephen: Are you sure?

  edna: What are you saying, that they pretend to enjoy it?

  stephen: It’s possible.

  edna: Don’t be ridiculous!

  stephen: Why? Most men at one time or another have pretended to enjoy themselves. If they’re after…you-know-what.