Minutes spent sweating poolside – big fat 0. Swimming cookies eaten after Jess had gone to bed – 2 (not bad).
Fundraising meeting didn’t go too badly, all things considered. Basically, I completely passed the buck, explaining how I was misled into thinking that things were much further ahead than they actually were, and that I was going to need quite a bit more time for the research stage. The Chair was very understanding, which annoyed Steve no end. Just have to hope not to ever bump into Angela again.
I staged a personal intervention at swimming today. I told Jess that I wasn’t going to be watching because the teacher had said that she needed to concentrate on her swimming, not on waving at me.
‘But I really want you to watch,’ she said, looking a bit sad.
‘I really wish I could watch too, baby,’ I said, lying, ‘but I’m going to have to sit in the café instead. I will be there to meet you when you come out and the good thing is that I’ll be able to buy you a snack!’
She thought it over.
‘Can I have a cookie with chocolate in?’ she asked.
‘Definitely,’ I said.
She looked pleased with this arrangement and scampered off towards the teacher. I turned to leave. ‘Are you not watching?’ asked one of the other mums.
‘No, I’m going to the café,’ I said. ‘I’d really love to carry on watching every week but honestly, I just hate it.’
The absolute genius of the whole thing is that I’d seen her eyeing the giant, overpriced cookies last week – £1.29 each – so I’d bought a packet of five similar ones from Aldi for 89p and I had one in my bag ready. Not only had I saved 40p but I also had four cookies at home.
Every penny counts, especially with the cost of the swimming lessons.
I think I might quit toddler gymnastics. I enjoy hanging out with Sierra and Lou, but it seems a bit pointless paying £2.50 to do that when I could just invite them to my house and spend the £2.50 on a job lot of chocolate digestives. Also slightly jealous that Jess has a more active social life than I do.
I don’t think Jess has learned anything at all – she’s too busy chatting and jumping up and down and running over to check I’m watching. If anything, her basic coordination skills have got worse – last week she fell off the sofa and she hadn’t even been moving, she’d just been sitting there watching the Octonauts. She told me she was busy with Captain Barnacle and ‘forgot to stay sitting up’.
I FaceTimed Mum and Dad to tell them about International Women’s Day. I hadn’t spoken to them in a while, but talking to Dylan about Caitlin had made me think a bit. I’ve always just assumed they will always be there, but they aren’t young any more. One day they won’t be there, and I’m not sure how I will cope with that.
Mum told me about the new walking group they’ve joined. It’s all expats living in the same area and they go out once a week with their dogs. Where they live in France has quite a strong English contingent. I sometimes wonder why they bothered moving all that way, really. Dad seemed distracted. I could see him nudging Mum and whispering behind his hand.
‘Mum, Dad,’ I said, ‘you remember it’s a video? I can see you whispering!’ They laughed.
‘I know,’ said Mum, ‘just ignore your dad, he wants me to ask you money questions.’
‘What kind of money questions?’
‘Nothing sinister,’ said Mum, ‘just to check you’re managing really, and that you don’t need any help.’
‘I’m managing fine,’ I reassured them. ‘That’s the benefit of swapping a house in London for one in Dorset, isn’t it? The mortgage is really small – Ian’s maintenance covers that – and he’s in no hurry for us to think about selling while the girls are around.’
‘But what about all those bills on your own?’ said Dad. ‘Are you sure we can’t help you out?’
‘It’s all good, Dad,’ I said. ‘Ian and I split Jess’s nursery costs that aren’t covered by vouchers and my wages from the museum cover bills and food and stuff. We aren’t going off on cruises every month or anything, but we manage. You mustn’t worry about us.’
Mum laughed. ‘Easier said than done as a mum!’ she said.
I knew what she meant.
Chinese buffet dates secured – 1. (Excellent work.)
Feeling empowered by the success of International Women’s Day, I have decided to take control of my menstrual cycle. I’m sick of having a day every month where I inexplicably want to stab everyone I see in the face with a fork, only to start my period the next day and go ‘Ohhh! That was it, then.’
It’s ridiculous for a grown-up woman to be taken by surprise every single month, like it hasn’t happened hundreds of times already. On Louise’s recommendation I have downloaded a period-tracking app that tells you every day how you may be feeling, based on your hormone levels. Obviously, I can’t use it properly yet as I can’t remember when my last period started to be able to set it up.
Message from Danny about our date venue. He suggested the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet on King Street. It didn’t scream romance to me, but I think we’ve established that he’s not exactly run-of-the-mill.
‘Be warned,’ he said, ‘I can eat a lot.’
Sexy times.
Number of meals eaten just before meeting date for dinner – 0. As I am a normal person! Thoughts about dying alone – many.
Date Day!
Message from Danny at 9.45 a.m. ‘Good morning,’ he wrote, followed by a pineapple emoji. Brushed over that in my head. ‘Do you still want to go out for food this evening?’
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘I’m excited to see how much you can eat. What time do you want to meet?’
‘I finish work at 4.30, so any time after that?’ A pause. ‘Oh, hang on; I checked and the Chinese place doesn’t open until 5.30.’
Christ, who goes out for dinner at 5.30?
‘Are you planning an early start to fit in more spring rolls?’ I asked. ‘I have some things to do during the day, but I’ll be done by about 6.30? How about we meet at the Boat and Anchor for a drink and go from there?’
‘OK,’ he replied, ‘I’ll see you at the Boat and Anchor at 6.30.’
Not exactly what I’d said, but still, it was a lie about having things to do (other than shave my legs, try on everything in my wardrobe etc.), so it didn’t matter too much.
At 6.25 I was sitting in the car watching the door of the pub.
At 6.27 a young-looking man in shorts and a backpack arrived and stood outside. That made things a bit awkward for me as I’d assumed he’d go on in and I’d be able to get out of the car and adjust myself away from his gaze. From where he stood he’d be able to see me and know that I’d been sitting there watching. I’d have to get out immediately to make it look like I’d pulled up just before he arrived.
I pulled down the visor to check my lipstick quickly, grimaced a bit, and flipped it back up.
Can I say here, for the record, that I think that bit where you and a first date have seen each other, but you’re not close enough to speak, is possibly one of the most awkward dating moments that exists? You’re aware that you’re watching each other, so you have to walk in a sassy yet casual way. Do you wave? Do you smile in acknowledgement? It’s awful.
Fortunately, it’s over quickly.
‘Hello,’ I said, when I was close enough for him to hear me. ‘Have you been here long?’ I asked, just to make the point that I hadn’t been watching.
‘Nope,’ he said, ‘I just arrived. Nice to meet you. Shall we get a drink, then?’
‘I hope you’re hungry,’ I said, as we made our way to the bar. ‘I feel you’ve made some pretty grand claims.’
‘Oh no, don’t worry,’ he said, ‘I’m not going to go mad. I’ve already eaten.’
Wait … what?
‘You’ve already eaten?’ I said, worried that I’d got the wrong end of the stick and perhaps we were just going to an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet to check out the soft furnishings.
‘Yeah, I had a McDonald’s on the way,’ he said, ‘just to tide me over.’
‘A McDonald’s?’ I said, baffled. ‘What did you have?’ As though that was really the question here.
‘Just a double cheeseburger and fries,’ he said.
Oh, right. Well, that’s OK, then. Just a double cheeseburger and fries. That’s fine.
By this point we were at the bar and doing the whole awkward ordering of drinks thing, so I didn’t have time to think about the burger situation. We chatted for a bit about work, Barnmouth, films – all the dull things you talk about when you don’t know someone but have to make sure there is never a silence.
When we arrived at the all-you-can-eat Chinese we were directed up to the tills where, apparently, you have to pay before you start eating. Not exactly romantic, but I guess at least it gets the whole ‘who’s going to pay for dinner’ question out of the way. Over drinks he’d already said he preferred to watch illegally downloaded videos than spend money at the cinema – sexy – and that he didn’t earn enough money to go out much, so I felt obliged to pay for myself.
Over satay chicken he told me all about his living situation. He’d moved to a new house a couple of years ago with his wife, who had since decided that being his wife wasn’t really one of her long-term goals. They’d carried on living together while he saved a deposit for a place of his own, and in the meantime she’d moved in a new partner.
‘Is this a prawn?’ he asked, picking up a prawn.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘are you not a fan?’
‘I’ll give it a go,’ he said, looking sceptical. He took a nibble. ‘It’s not too bad, but I don’t think I’ll have another one.’
Over crispy shredded beef he told me how, for most of his twenties, he’d mainly eaten cheese sandwiches as he was a bit fussy when it came to food. This put me off more than the whole ‘living with ex-wife and new partner’ situation, to be honest. I already have one child who won’t eat vegetables and another who doesn’t like different foods to touch on the plate, so I really didn’t fancy having to prepare separate rounds of cheese sandwiches at every meal.
‘I’m not that keen on this duck,’ he said, poking about at a little mound of dry-looking shredded meat.
‘I think you’re meant to have it in a pancake with cucumber and sauce?’ I said. ‘I expect it would taste better then.’
‘Oh, right,’ he said. ‘Like a crepe?’
‘No, not really like a crepe.’
‘Oh.’
I wonder what the thought process was for him when he signed up for Tinder? ‘You know what, I’m living with my ex-wife still, I have no money and I don’t know how to eat like a grown-up – this feels like I’m in the right place to start thinking about dating!’
Message from Danny tonight: ‘Can you please name me the oldest cartoon you remember from your childhood?’
The ‘most old’? I waited a while to reply because I was in the middle of an episode of Millionaire Matchmaker and I don’t feel like Patti Stanger would be into replying straight away to WhatsApp messages from men who eat takeaway on the way to a dinner.
‘Pigeon Street?’ I wrote eventually. ‘Thundercats? Fingermouse?’
‘Pigeon Street sounds fantastic’ he replied. ‘Also, I think it’s pronounced Dangermouse.’
‘There was also a creepy programme I watched called Tottie,’ I said, ‘which I googled recently and apparently it showed the first-ever murder on a kids’ programme.’
‘Hardcore,’ he said. ‘Like The Wire of its time.’ Five minutes passed and he messaged again.
‘I’m watching Care Bears,’ he wrote. ‘They are amazing.’ A pause. ‘They shoot love out of their chests.’ Another pause. ‘Ahead of their time.’
I pictured Patti the Millionaire Matchmaker’s face and decided not to reply. I screenshotted the conversation to WIB though, obviously.
‘WTF?’ said Sierra. ‘How old is he? Seven?’
‘He’s thirty,’ I said, ‘but he did get a bit squeamish over a prawn at the Chinese buffet. He mainly likes cheese sandwiches.’
‘He sounds like he’s perhaps not quite at the same life stage as you?’ suggested Lou tactfully.
‘Fox would get on well with him,’ said Sierra. ‘He loves all of the beige foods.’
What is it with kids and beige foods? Bread, cheese, pasta, potatoes – they can’t get enough of them. You’d think that, instinctively, they’d be drawn to colourful things, wouldn’t you? Primary colours and all that. Lego don’t make all their bricks beige. But maybe that’s because they know that kids would just eat them.
Overheard Cassie and Yvonne at Busy Beavers talking about tutors. For a while I wondered if Cassie was thinking of learning a language, or perhaps Yvonne was retaking a maths GCSE (wouldn’t surprise me), but it turns out they were talking about tutors for their three-year-old children.
Cassie said, ‘You really cannot begin too early if you want give them the very best start. We’re keen that Aubyn gets to grips with phonics as soon as possible.’
Just fuck off, Cassie. They’re basically babies.
Stomped about all day feeling angry over nothing in particular.
Child-free weekend again as Jess wanted to be at home next weekend instead, so that the Easter bunny wouldn’t get confused. She was very anxious about missing out on the Mini Eggs. She is her mother’s daughter.
I thought about inviting Sierra or Lou over but the thought of having to speak to other people made me feel cross. Drank wine and re-watched Legally Blonde instead. Cried at Elle’s graduation speech.
Profound pieces of advice received from hormone app – 0. Wine – 3 (for menstrual cramps and general despair at lack of purpose etc).
Period started today, so the last couple of days make sense now. Logged day one on the hormone app.
‘Today you may experience menstrual cramps and fatigue that might leave you feeling like you want to curl up on the sofa!’
No shit, Sherlock. I hope it’s more helpful than this, generally.
Jaffa Cakes – 7 (as instructed by hormone app). Mild feelings of jealousy – 0. (Lies.)
According the hormone app, rising estrogen levels will be improving my outlook slightly but I ‘may still find myself upset if someone eats the last cookie’. I finished the Jaffa Cakes in my bedroom while Jess was watching Flo play Sims … just in case.
Lou has got a photography job! The woman from Grape and Grain who came to the IWD event got in touch with her and asked if she’d be able to create some product images that they can use on social media and in their marketing. Lou is over the moon, obviously. I am very pleased for her and not at all envious.