Friday 31 March 9am.
Hurrah! Fantastic report in papers saying pregnant women's absent-minded
image is completely unfair - thereby proving Daniel Cleaver wrong. Oh
look - that's where I put banker's chip card - on floor! Hurrah! Will
just pick it u... gaah! What the fuck is that? Oh, is baby in stomach.
What's that noise? Oh - mobile. Was garage man: "Your car's
ready." "Great!
How much?" I said, thinking: Hurrah! Have got money from
false-sacking, morning off and car back. Can zip down to H&M
Maternity and buy fashionable Gwen Stefani-like boho-chic maternity gear
instead of same three pairs of black sweat pants and tops. Also possibly
Bugaboo pram. "Twelve
hundred and ninety eight pounds." "What?
What? What?" - was hyperventilating - "I could buy two Bugaboo
Chameleons for that. You were only supposed to be getting the hose
nozzle out of the petrol tank." "Yeah!
Hahaha. How d'you manage to get that stuck in there? But your gearbox
had gone, hadn't it? Sounded like someone had been driving in second for
months." "That's
outrageous, you should have called me with an estimate, I didn't ask you
to fix the gearbox, it's been perfectly well driven, there was nothing
wrong with it!" I gabbled indignantly, realising simultaneously I
was lying: the car was completely the past tense of making love and
instead of faffing about deciding whether to change up or down had
adopted "find a gear you like, and stick to it" policy. "I
haven't got twelve hundred quid, and I'm pregnant," I wailed, both
lying again and using unborn child to manipulate others. Upshot is, I
can choose between selling car to garage for £200 or paying £1,200 to
get it back. Will e-mail Mark Darcy for advice. 9.15am.
Weird. Just tried to log on. Password will not work. Someone has hacked
into computer and changed password. World is conspiring to thwart and
frustrate self. 9.20am.
Maybe was wrong password. Anyway, is written down in safe - residue of
Mark Darcy influence. 9.22am.
Cannot remember safe number. Maybe was birthday? Yes. 9.23am.
Safe will not open. Have fallen victim to identify fraud. First,
password is changed, then safe code Will call bank. But what is
directory inquiries number? Oh never mind. 11am. After
wrestling with whether or not is worth keeping car in London have
decided yes, as cannot face getting on tube in horrible flappy weather.
Also taxis prohibitively expensive. Gearbox repair, surely, will pay for
self in taxi savings, ease, peace of mind etc. 10.30am. In
car now, squeezed into pregnancy jeans tucked into boots in manner of
Gwen Stefani. Gaah! - have just gone over Congestion Charge line, was
planning to park outside. £8 gone before even start! No parking spaces
- never mind will park in John Lewis car park. Oh, though: cannot turn
right and am in traffic jam headed for Oxford Circus. Horrible dustbin
lorry wants to come out of junction but am gridlocked across. Lorry
driver is gesticulating as if am half-wit - tapping side of head and
pulling horrible faces. 11.45am.
Tried to reverse, but car behind started honking; meanwhile lorry driver
still grotesquely gesticulating. Found self uncharacteristically
sticking fingers down throat and miming wanking motions. Next thing
parked car alongside honked. Wound down window and yelled "Fuck
you!" only to discover was Mark Darcy's mother. 11.50am.
Have found parking space now: Pay and Display. 11.55am.
Gaah! is £2.40 an hour. Pregnancy jeans are so uncomfortable: under
bump so keep slipping down at back. Am like builder with beer gut and
bottom cleavage. 11.57am.
Half-way to shop just remembered put money in Pay and Display machine
but forgot ticket. 11.58am.
Back at car. Oh no, oh no. Bloody parking fine already and machine has
eaten £4.80 and will neither give paid-for ticket nor return money.
Outrageous. Have to put another £4.80 and move car, lest towed away. 12.15pm.
Grrr. H&M do not do maternity in Oxford Circus: must go to Marble
Arch. Cannot walk as jeans too painful. So have wasted Pay and Display
money x 2, plus parking fine. Also accidentally purchased white trilby
hat in Top Shop in misguided cheer-up attempt. 12.20pm.
Baaaaah! Another parking fine! Turns out Pay and Display ticket flapped
up when closed door, so warden could not see time. Is wrong to blame
individual warden. Stresses of job must be enormous. 12.21pm.
bad person from hell. Hope he grows tail. 12.40pm. Is
nowhere to park near Marble Arch - ooh goody! Three spaces all together! 12.42pm.
Done pay and display perfectly. Nothing further can go wrong. Ugh,
though. Is disgusting round here: windy and grim with people smoking
miserably in shop doorways. 1.50pm.
Hurrah! Excellent trying-on session. Have found many things. Must hurry
before time runs out on car, though. 1.57pm.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Chip card PIN number has completely vanished from
brain. Hate new chip cards. How are people supposed to remember all
these numbers and passwords in life? Cannot buy anything. Is baby's
fault. Daniel is right: Baby is eating brain in manner of huge cuckoo or
small cannibal. Oh God - so late had better get taxi back to car then go
straight to work. 1.59pm.
Made it in time - after £3 for taxi - but where is car? Car vanished. 2.10pm.
Grrr! Lady in sandwich shop says car has been towed away owing to
miniscule "bay suspended" sign. Is £200 to get car back and
will have to get taxi to work. Hate parking in London. Hate it. Is like
giant intelligence, observation, or concentration test. One tiny slip
and it's, "Hahahahahahaha! £200 please." Is like having
goblins everywhere, waiting to snatch your shoes or handbag then
demanding you go miles away and hand over savings before they'll give
them back. Failed shopping expedition/concentration exam has cost:
Congestion charge = £8.00. Pay & Display: 3 x £4.80 = £14.40.
Parking fines x 2 = £100. Taxi to car = £3. Taxi to work = £15. Taxi
to car pound £20. Towaway charge = £200. Total
= £360.40. Friday
31 March |