Love, Nina (27 page)

MK: So you attacked him because he hated the violets.

Me: It was a poke, not an attack.

MK: OK, but were the violets and the poke linked?

Me: A bit, maybe, but I regret both now.

MK: Especially the violets, I should think.

Me: Yes.

MK: Harder to live down than the poke.

Me: God, yes.

MK: Not that poking is a good thing.

Me: No. Anyway, now he's gone back to Sussex.

MK: Where the girls are less liable to poke him.

Too annoyed to write about anything else. But hope all's well with you.

Love, Nina

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

The Owner's outdoor shower sounds brilliant. It's a shame about you having to have the occasional glimpse of him in it (couldn't you just not look?) but other details (outside, bamboo and cold) are good—like something in the wild.

Mary-Kay's bath is a different kettle of fish—but still amazing. It's in her bedroom, right in the window. Of course she'd never go in it (the bath) with the shutters open (unlike your Owner), but if she ever lost her mind, it would be an obvious option.

It's got a great big mahogany cover over it with brass handles. It must be a right faff to get it off (the lid), especially as it has stuff on top. Books and things. That's why she uses ours so much.

I've upset Misty with a thoughtless (pointless) comment.

Me: If I ever get married I'll consider myself to have failed in life (
that was the thoughtless comment
).

Misty: Thanks a lot (
stomps off
 
).

Me: What did I say wrong?

Pippa: She was jilted, remember?

Me: Jilted? She's only twenty-three.

Pippa: It was when she was in the first year.

Me: Jilted on the
actual
wedding day?

Pippa: No, a few weeks before.

Me: That's not jilting.

I didn't say anything (else) but it started me thinking that jilting is one of the few things available in the modern world (to the total cunt). I mean you can no longer deflower, kill or rob people on the highway or steal their sheep, but you can jilt them at the altar.

I can imagine how annoying it would be (to be jilted) because of the time Nunney canceled our camping weekend at short notice (it felt like being mildly jilted). I hadn't even wanted to go particularly, but felt I should make the effort and then he suddenly “postponed” at the eleventh hour when I'd announced to everyone that we were going camping in the New Forest and people had said “how romantic” etc.

Me: So you're canceling the camping?

Nunney: I'm
postponing
it.

Me: I never wanted to go anyway.

N: You should have said.

Me: I was being nice.

N: Oh, was that you trying to be nice? That's what put me off.

Love, Nina

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

5th floor coffee bar. Talking about parents. Funny to hear how odd they all are, not just straightforward odd, but funny habits and peculiar life-styles. It's great to hear because it makes you feel so much better.

The Student from Luton revealed that her parents have slept “apart” for years due to her dad's “night strolling” syndrome (like sleepwalking, only the person doesn't actually get up and walk, they just move their legs while still in bed). They now have twin beds and touch hands across the gap every night before going to sleep (which seems nice and romantic). But the Student from Luton says her mother won't splash out on a new single duvet cover for him, so he's stuck with Star Wars.

Then we started discussing our own sleep positions and it came out that I slept in the fetal position, which I demonstrated on the floor.

Student from Luton: You shouldn't sleep like that.

Me: Like what?

SL: With one leg on top of the other.

Me: Why?

SL: The pressure of the top leg will bring on varicose veins.

So, since then I've gone into a new sleep position, it's pretty much “the recovery position”—according to the Student from Luton (who's St. John's trained)—and will not cause veins or choking or anything untoward. I told her that it's not that comfy and she suggested placing a “leg pillow” under the knee of the bent leg (like a pregnant woman). It seems a lot of faff just to avoid possible future varicose veins.

Later at 55.

Me: I've gone into a new sleep position.

Will: What is it?

Me: It's like the recovery position (
I demonstrate
).

Will: So, are you still like that when you wake up?

Me: Um (
thinking
), no, I'm not, I think I go back into my old position.

Sam: What was your old position like?

Me: The fetal position.

Sam: What, with your feet up?

Me: No,
fetal,
like a baby in the mother's tummy (
I demonstrate
).

Sam: Why have you changed?

Will: She was born.

Surprised about Gordon Banks. He's very distinctive (looking). Send a photo if you can.

Love, Nina

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Gordon Banks is much more famous than George Melly. Banks played for England for almost ten years and (according to Sam) is the best goalie England ever had.

I don't think your Gordon can be the
actual
Gordon Banks. Unless he looks like my sketch (a bit Spocky), it's not him.

I can't see the real Gordon Banks in a swanky bar. It just doesn't sound like him. Sorry.

Love, Nina

PS Has anyone asked him (if he's the real Gordon Banks)?

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

I knew it couldn't be the actual Gordon Banks.

And strictly speaking, being “distantly related to the human cannonball by marriage” is not related to the human cannonball at all, it just means that someone to whom she's distantly related
married
the human cannonball.

Anyway, what actually is a human cannonball? It's not like they're a brilliant pianist or a marvelous writer. They're just an attention-seeker. Like the birdseed bloke of Mornington Crescent.

Have gone on to Earl Grey. Trying to develop my tastes.

MK always has Earl Grey unless on a train. Has chamomile if in very good or very bad mood. She got really grumpy the other day when the kettle had gone missing and accused me of “doing something weird” with it. Then she found it in her room. She'd taken it up to water her plant and got sidetracked.

She was about to make a chamomile, but switched to regular tea out of mardiness.

I found a wedge of Edam cheese with a bite taken from it. Right in the middle. Presented it to Sam & Will. Both denied taking the bite. I could tell it was Sam (by his gazing around the room). He denied it, but as he protested, I saw he had that red wax all over his teeth.

Me: You're such a bad liar.

Sam: You only knew because of the red stuff.

Me: No, I knew before that.

Will: He's rubbish at lying.

Me: Yeah, for someone who tells so many.

Sam: You can't talk.

Me: I can lie perfectly well if I've planned it.

MK: What do you mean “if you've planned it”?

Me: Not on the spur of the moment.

Will: I'm happy to lie, if necessary, but not on the
spot.

Sam: Mum couldn't lie on the spot.

MK: I
could,
but I don't.

Me: It's best not to.

MK: (
raises eyebrows
).

Will's friend is a vegetarian but will eat anything that's died of old age. Apparently the kid's mum gets hold of chickens from a chicken rescue that have died of natural causes.

Reminded me of Helen who will eat anything that's had a nice life except for lamb, frogs, and snails—which she doesn't eat however nice a life they've had (because she dislikes them).

Love, Nina

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Woolwich is full of people with red tips in their hair nowadays. Even this quiet girl on our course (Fiona, calls herself “Fee”) has had red tips done. Fee's red tips are really good, neat little tips, very bright red. Effective. She must have had it done at a professional hair salon.

Stella spotted them in the refectory and was envious. She went and spoke to her (Fee) about the red tips. You could see the girl (Fee) edging away (egg & bacon flan on her tray).

Stella thinks she and Fee have got something in common now Fee's had the tips done. Stella seems to have forgotten that her red tips didn't work out (only she and I know that her pinky-orange hair is the red tips gone wrong). Stella's acting as though they both have the tips and it's freaking the girl (Fee) out.

Fee was in the Director General later drinking a pint of lime cordial, looking shy but crunching ice cubes and deliberately making everyone cringe. There's something annoying about that kind of shy person. I mean, why should they get away with it when the rest of us have to speak? If you're shy, fine, but you shouldn't be allowed to have red tips in your hair. I mean you're either shy or you're not.

Said something along those lines to Stella, who thought I was being intolerant and said that Fee's red tips are a non-verbal way of expressing herself. Ditto the ice cube chewing. Stella only stuck up for her because she's got the red tips and in Stella's mind they're in the same team.

Love, Nina

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Very windy in North London last night. This morning found a wind-mangled umbrella had been thrown over our wall. Went to chuck it in the dustbin shelter and saw one of our bin lids had blown away. Hunted about for the bin lid and saw a pile of soil and a broken terracotta planter (with Greek meander pattern) in next door's front yard.

On the plus side, a sex-card from the phone box had blown into 57. It said, “If You Like Pain, Ring Sarah Jane” and featured a line-drawing of a woman with a whip being pulled along in a chariot by a decrepit naked man. I propped it up on their bin for them all to see.

Agree about Dickens—hence taking the Dickens course. Unfortunately the novels on the course are the gloomy ones (course is called
Dickens the Great Reformer,
so to be expected really). Just read
Hard Times.
Awful (but short).

I agree with you 100% about
Great Expectations.
It made me think about people who have done good deeds…so much nicer than grudging the people who've done you wrong. I always think of Joanne O'Connor's mum who gave me a bottle of Asti Spumante on my 18th and made a big fuss of me. I was slightly embarrassed at the time, but looking back it was one of the nicest things anyone's ever done. Not the wine, the bothering.

Also MK who, when J—died, had the guts to talk about it and said, “Borrow the car, go on,” and then later, when I was dwelling on it, said, “Don't do that thing of making it an excuse to do less. Do more.”

Anyway. Agree about Charles Dickens in general. Everyone likes Charles Dickens.

Me: Everyone likes Charles Dickens.

Will: Dickens is my second best Charles.

Me: Who's your first best?

Sam: Is it Charles?

Will: Charles who?

Sam: Charles at school.

Will: No way! I hate him.

Me: Who, then?

Will: Charles Darwin, he was crucial.

Sam: What about Prince Charles?

Will: No way, he's worse than Charles.

Love, Nina

*  *  *

Dear Vic,

Will reads a lot. In various places. He looks serious (even worried) when he reads.

Me: Is the book OK?

Will: It's hilarious.

Me: But you look so serious.

Will: I'm laughing on the inside.

Sam: I hate it when people laugh out loud when they read.

Will: Me too, that's why I hide it.

Sam: They're showing off about reading a funny book.

Will: About
finding
it funny.

AB: (
from kitchen table
) I think you're allowed to laugh if something amuses you.

Sam: Not a book.

AB: I think one's allowed an involuntary snort…or two.

MK: One.

Moldy banana in a rucksack in Sam's bedroom.

Sam: I haven't used that bag since I was eleven.

Me: So that banana's over a year old.

Sam: Do you think we missed its birthday?

Me: Yes. Put it in the kitchen bin.

Sam: What a pointless life it's had.

Me: What?

Will: Forgotten fruit always upsets him.

Sam looks at his hands. It's a habit.

Will: Why do you do that?

Sam: I like it—that's all.

Will: Are you looking, or thinking?

Sam: Looking…I think. I don't know, no, thinking (
looks at hands
).

Will: It looks weird.

Sam: You should try it, it's very sympathetic.

Will: (
looking at hands
).