Didn’t he do a gap year in America? That was probably where it all started, this desire to communicate instead of living a perfectly happy life of awkward silences and speaking only in clichés. I am starting to wonder if Charlie is British at all. You are supposed to accept that at face value, even if it is a blatant lie. I thought we had established that I hadn’t been avoiding him by me saying I hadn’t been avoiding him. When people pass my house, they don’t see a woman who wonders if she has made the right choices in life, who is sure she is a terrible parent, who doesn’t know if her husband loves her anymore – because he certainly doesn’t seem to like her very much right now and they barely talk or have anything in common these days – and who doesn’t know how long she can keep plastering on the bright smile that says to the outside world that everything is fine, it’s fine, it’s all marvellous, before she cries drunkenly into the dog’s ears because nobody understands her.īuggeration. Simon’s love for his power tools is not a force to be underestimated, though. The testosterone in the room was palpable, as Man faced down Man over the holy grail of Power Tools. ‘So I built a fire on the beach, man, and I burnt everything that had belonged to Kevin, and I took this new name, and I left Kevin there.’ Basically, he got completely off his tits on drugs and set fire to all his stuff and we are supposed to somehow think this makes him deep and profound, instead of a pretentious tosser. So he binned his job, sold his flat and went off to travel round India, which was where he found himself as Bardo. Maybe I should have bought Jane the £35 umbrella, and then perhaps she would grow up to be a well-rounded and functioning adult who would not still think ‘when I’m a grown up’ even in her late thirties? Bollocks, I have failed in my parental duty again.
On reflection, we suspect probably not, due to being British and so spending our formative years drinking cider and eating chips, unlike the healthy Continental people who eat salad and go cycling. The mummies in the playground spend much time discussing if we ever had arses like those of the au pairs. I fear hipster bars are probably the new smoky jazz clubs anyway, now that smoking is banned everywhere.Īnyway, Simon might deny checking out the au pairs’ arses when he picks up the children, but he’s blatantly lying, it is impossible not to notice the au pairs’ arses. Sadly, the whisky was just part of a cocktail in a very wanky hipster bar. I did achieve the inappropriate skirt and the whisky, though. In lieu of smoky jazz clubs, Parisian garrets and unsuitable boys, Simon took me out for birthday tapas last night and I got a bit more drunk than I meant to.
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