Diary of a Mummy Misfit #1 (22 page)

It would seem the lunch box wars have begun - cucumbers at dawn.

Must give careful consideration to Max’s lunch content or he’ll be labelled ‘toxic’ before you can say ‘mung-bean’.

Thursday 4
^th
September 

Met Gestapo and her ‘Mafiosa’ at the Gnome’s at ten.

Was warned by Fenella that she’d heard they were definitely the core of the mothers who wanted CCL abolished.  After the Gnome’s outburst at the last meeting she hadn’t moved her kids to another school as threatened.  Rumour had it she was determined to stick it out and do all she could to stop the fundraising and oust the ‘charity cases’.

It was a meeting I really wasn’t looking forward to.  Fenella would have come with me for safety in numbers but she was meeting with the foodie and leather people I’d contacted yesterday.

I’d definitely drawn the short straw.

The Gnome welcomed me into her hideous house - interior designed to the extent of removing any soul it may once have had - with massive ‘works of art’ which appeared to be blobs of paint-splattered cat litter.

Her two henchmen were already installed at a huge table in the kitchen - notes and brochures spread around them.  Neither acknowledged my presence.  Gestapo was too busy feeding a croissant to the rat in the bag and the other mother (who I recognised as Stick Insect) was busy filing her already perfectly French manicured talons, ready for the kill.

When they did eventually deign to recognise that I was in the room, it was with a swift head to toe assessment. Assume this was to confirm that I was definitely out of their league. After all, I live in a ‘little hice’!

The conversation didn’t start well as I was offered a seat and the usual Earl Grey or Elderflower.

Gestapo: “So, Elizabeth isn’t it?” (
No it’s not.  Not even on my birth certificate)
“I take it we have you on side with this wretched CCL business?”

Stick Insect:  “Yes.  We couldn’t possibly be involved in the food organisation if any of the profits would be used for such purpose.”

The Gnome: “Of course, that needs to be made very clear from the outset.”

Felt I needed to let them know where I stood on the matter.

“I’m afraid I don’t oppose CCL.  I think it’s a very worthy cause but profits from the Christmas Fair won’t be going to it.  Only those from whichever fund raising idea Fenella and I decide on in
conjunction
with the fair will go to CCL.”

Gestapo:  “Well, that definitely won’t
have
our
support.  Will it gels?  Frankly, Elizabeth, I’m surprised at you.  It must be so hard for you to see your child through a private education but
you
don’t ask for handouts, do you?”

Bloody cheek!  I don’t know how I kept my cool but knew there was no point in showing myself up by stooping to her level.  Managed to employ a little of Max’s quiet dignity and continued, “That’s not really what we’re here to discuss today. So perhaps we should get on with the issue in hand, the food.”

Fenella and I had thought that hiring a good quality hot dog stand and an oven for jacket potatoes would be a good idea - they’d been a great success with kids and adults in the past and the mark-up was excellent.

The Mafiosa had different ideas.

600 smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels (made by their nannies on the morning of the fair) and 600 whole-wheat tomato and anchovy pizzas (made and frozen by the nannies in the weeks leading up to the fair).
  Slave labour lives in South West London thanks to the upper-middle classes.

Voiced my concerns that (a) 600 of
anything
seemed a little excessive - we’re a school of 140 children! And (b) was it really the type of food that would sell?  Our target audience was primarily the children and I couldn’t see many relishing a menu like that.

Was quickly poo-pooed and told that their calculations were fine - people got very hungry at the fair and grandparents often came along too, so that boosted the figures - and if the children were hungry enough they’d have to go for the healthy options.  Hot dogs and jacket potatoes, indeed!

Realised I was fighting a losing battle and said I’d discuss their ideas with Fenella and they could also present them at the next meeting.

Left swiftly, only to hear Gestapo saying, “Perhaps we should also sell the ‘Energy Booster’ drink I give Mia.”

So, Mia’s
her
daughter?  Suddenly it was all beginning to make perfect sense!

Friday 5
^th
September

Fenella and I met to discuss the outcome of our separate meetings.

Her foodie man was perfect - delicacies that no one ever knows what to do with, beautifully presented to gather dust on your shelves and at extortionate prices.  Ideal for Manor House mummies.

The leather stall was also a hit - jewel encrusted bags and belts, made to specification. No two designs the same.

Fenella’s day had been a success and she was eager to hear about mine.  She couldn’t believe the Mafiosa’s rudeness and gave me a good telling off for letting them get away with it.  “Sod dignity, Lib.  They treated you appallingly and you just let them get away with it.  Good grief, if I’d been there they’d have got the sharp end of my tongue.”

Loved her reaction when I told her their food plans.

“Fuckwits!  I’ve really heard it all now - how totally up themselves can they get?”

Fell about hysterically when we checked my email for any fair updates.

There was one from Gestapo which read:

‘Elizabeth,

Further to our discussions the food committee would like to confirm the following menu:

Smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels - £5.00

Tomato and anchovy pizzas - £4.00

Mulled wine - £3.50

Earl grey - £2.00

Energy drink - £3.50

Our calculations show that we should make a profit in the region of £4,000 and we look forward to having our proposal accepted at the next meeting.’

Fenella was spluttering wildly.  “
£4,000 profit? 
That’s almost as much as the
whole
school fair usually makes.  They’re bloody barking.”

Agreed to let it lie until the next meeting, hoping it would be thrown out of court.

Couldn’t help thinking about the poor nannies if the idea
does
go ahead - maybe there’ll be a mutiny and the Mafiosa would be left high and dry.

Now
that
would prove to be an interesting headline:

“MELTDOWN IN SOUTH WEST LONDON AS YUMMY MUMMIES LEFT TO FEND FOR THEMSELVES.”

Saturday 6
^th
September

Max didn’t get up until 09.30 - unheard of for him but he was shattered from his first week at school.

Thankfully, he loves it and seems oblivious to any snobbery or one-upmanship that goes on.  Any actual malevolence is limited to the parents but the divide does manifest itself in innocent playground conversation.

Just yesterday, Mia asked him why he doesn’t have a nanny.  Their teacher, Mrs Chaney, had heard Max answer “Because my mummy loves me enough to look after me herself, of course!”  Mrs Chaney said he hadn’t meant it in a nasty way, it was just the obvious answer as far as he was concerned, but it had sent Mia off with a puzzled look on her face, obviously questioning the depth of
her
mummy’s love.

Wouldn’t have wanted to be in Gestapo’s Manolo’s when Mia got home last night.

Sunday 7
^th
September

Went to the park. (For a change).

Had Nic & Rick and F&J around last night so we’re a little on the fragile side. (For a change).

Fenella had suggested that Nic bring the starter, she’d do the main and I’d make an ‘MG’ pud - nice cheap evening, just what we need.

Ended up playing ‘saucy charades’ which bordered on the disgusting.

Fenella, Nic & Rick digressed into a graphic conversation about Fenella’s regular trips for colonic irrigation.  N&R were besides themselves with excitement, wanting to hear every last detail of what paraphernalia went where and graphic descriptions of the expulsion.

More anal reference and innuendo than Ned and Josh were comfortable with, which resulted in them both looking slightly queasy.

For a moment I feared we might see a repeat appearance of my ‘Peaked Meringues’.

Evening ended with Nic, Rick and Fenella waxing lyrical about Pritesh’s pert buttocks and kissable lips.

Hope
I
don’t end up with a repeat appearance of my Delhi Delight dream - it knocked me for six for days.

Monday 8
^th
September