Of Continuing Comical Karma April 19, 2008
Posted by Jen in : Domestic Doings, Journal , trackbackThey say, don’t they, that things happen for a reason. Eight weeks ago, we were told that our landlady had decided to sell the house we live in. No problemo, I thought jauntily, I now have a proper job earning a splendid number of Great British pounds. I shall procure a lifetime of debt in the form of a mortgage and purchase a humble hovel in which to house my offspring.
Apparently, however, due to apparent crunchiness of credit and my unwillingness to live in a chicken shed, this was something of a non-starter.
I pestered every letting agent in Sussex and could I find a house? Could I ‘eck. On Friday, however, our luck changed. And, um, all change is good. Isn’t it?
Of all the houses, in all the many countrified places within striking distance of the boys’ school, we have agreed to hand over the paltry sum of £1300 a month to live in a cul de sac. Gulp. Lovely bf has already been instructed to purchase some pastel-coloured sweaters and to get his sideburns trimmed. This is serious middle-class suburban stuff. We do not do that sort of thing. We stride about, mumbling madly, covered in mud and like to Not Really Talk to People.
It gets better. In The Novel, I have a character called Rajni. Rajni is based very heavily on someone I used to be very friendly with. In fact, she was very much my bestest friend when I came to live here. We shopped, lunched, drank, did playground gossip, dinner parties, the lot until she tore whole heaps of friendships apart with the winning cocktail of resentment, poison and Merlot coursing through her veins.
Reader, in my new teeny tiny suburban strangulation of residential ruin, the woman horrid enough to have inspired The Novel will live directly opposite me. I will be able to see into her living room and her into mine.
And I think the next door neighbours might be Christians.
And we have to move next week and haven’t yet booked any hairy, sweating removal men to transfer our dismal lives from our sprawling rural lair to this stamp-sized suburban sorrow.
So. Working full-time in brain-squishifying job. Moving house with one week to organise. Two children to look after. The Novel to edit. I shall be wearing my cross face quite a lot over the next ten days. I shall be saying swear words aplenty at work; I will not be able to shout at ‘home’ in the cul de sac. The neighbours will Think Things and give each other Knowing Looks.
And, inspired by Nez and Lucy, I’ve just signed up for a photography course with the Open University as part of my degree which also starts next week. To add to the jollification, I’m hormonal and have a great big spot on my snozzle.
I’m trying to be pleasant. I really am. But arses. Oh bugger. I hope the new neighbours can’t hear…
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What are the chances? Maybe she’s mellowed…but if not, at least you’ll get plenty of material for your book! The photography course sounds great, hope you’ll be posting your photos soon.
For the next ten days I prescribe lashings of chocolate and wine.
Hey Jen. Crumbs. Well I live in a place a little bit like that. And I’ve just shouted at husband so it can still be done. (Just make sure all windows are closed first). I’m sure our neighbours think I’m some sort of fishwife though (apologies to fishwives for that stereotype). Good luck this week. That’s a lot of dosh in rent, I remember paying that much though for a one bed flat in London…
This is better than a soap opera.
Oooohhh hon - my heart goes out to you!! When Chris and I lived in Manchester we looked at buying a house and even with our combined salary’s (Which came to a respectable amount) we could afford something about the size of a postage stamp!!
I’m sure the cul de sac won’t be nearly as bad as you think and now you live opposite hideous woman you should be able to garner enough material for your sequel!! (See…..always a silver lining!!)
Keep your chin up!!
C x
Ps. There is an award for you over at mine.
Oooh, Jen, crikey. But it’s a bit funny too.
Jen Just behave very stangely from the start, don’t worry they’ll avert their eyes. You can then settle in to being the local colour and steal their lives for novel material while they aren’t paying attention.
Yvonne - Sadly, I am going to have to diet madly for the next 10 days so that The Arch Enemy doesn’t smirk when she sees how lardy I am…
Helen - Am relieved to know that a bit of shouting will be permitted. Thanks heavens for double glazing!
Bedshaped - Trust me, there are bits to this story that I can’t even blog about. If it’s a soap, it’ll have to be a Channel 4 series…
Carol - what I don’t get is why we are paying more in rent than we would for a mortgage. Money sitting in the bank, begging to be used usefully… it’s torture! I’ve always managed not to live in a cul de sac… straight roads are somehow better to my wonky mind than curved, roundy ones?
JJ - Oi! That’s my life you’re laughing at!
Breezy - The trouble is, I already know some of them from the boys’ primary school days. But shamelessly stealing their lives could be fun…
Get net curtains … and garlic … and plenty of alcohol. And, I agree with Bedshaped, this is soooo much better than a soap opera x
Oh God. There’s definitely a whole new novel in there. A Crime one, maybe?
You could swank around said cul-de-sac in oversized shades pretending to be someone else, which shouldn’t be too difficult with bf’s new pastel sweaters? Mind you, between your writing, child-care, full-time job and photography course She probably won’t see much of you anyway. And when you’re a Published Author, you can gleefully stick two fingers up. Metaphorically speaking. Things can turn ugly in suburbia…
Oh wow some people have all the luck, all that angst you can garner for your novel. And with all that time on your hands you will be able to join in the Coffee morning group that is bound to exist in your cul de sac. Looking forward to all gossip on your blog too. Seriously though good luck with the move I still haven’t got over ours!!!!
‘We stride about, mumbling madly, covered in mud and like to Not Really Talk to People’. You too eh?
But it might be the spur you need to finally eat your dish of revenge cold and get the novel sorted, and just think of the photos you can take of bf in his pastel sweaters!
Oh poor you, how awful having her living so close. At least you have an excuse that you’re so busy with your course, novel etc that you can’t spend too much, if any time talking to her.
Looking forward to reading all about it. Bedshaped is right, this is like a soap.
Oh, BUM, Jen. I feel for you, I really do, and I shall be thinking of you this week! I really hope you get through it all without too much shouting. Then, the first moment you get, pour a large glass of something (anything) alcoholic and drink it quickly. Then pour a second glass to savour. And then a third (or more) if the neighbours are really bad.
Hugs.
Helen - garlic and vino… ok… but, really - net curtains? Me? Oh my good Lord.
Karen - Oddly enough, lovely bf was talking about writing a novel: rather then The Firm, it would be called The Cul de Sac and very Stephen King in nature… mwah ha ha ha…
Sheepish - I really may never be the same again. Hey ho.
Lucy - but what if it spurs me onto murder?
Debs - Soap opera indeed. It’s worse than that! I’m dreading her turning up on the doorstep, unknowingly bringing me a cup of sugar or something. Aaarrghh.
Leigh - I shall take your advice. Hic. Oops, think I may have started a little early?
Oh arses indeed. That’s the pits. Send all your swearing my way and I’ll do it for you.
You’ll have,/i> to get your book out asap and give The Arch Enemy something to get her knickers in a twist about.
Good luck with it all Jen. That’s alot o’stuff to deal with. x
Oh bloody hell. That’s not nice at all.
But what will you do if you become bestest friend again? Will you have to rewrite your entire novel?
x
Lane - Swearing is really quite fun so I shall willingly let you join in my joy…
Caroline - Actually, the worst thing is that we are actually still on fake speaking terms, sort of. We won’t be once I’ve knocked her flower pots over a few times though. Right, now where can I buy some steel blinds???
Not… *assumes tone of quiet horror* Christians as well…?
Whatever next.
Deepest sympathy.
Christian neighbours and a Cul-De-Sac? Well there’s material there all right! Maybe it will be one of those nice Cul-De-Sacs where evryone brings over baked goods on your first day in the hope of your metaphoric or literal dirty laundry….at least then you’d have scones…unless they bring rock cakes that would be typical of the ‘burbs drak side…
Oh, I know what you mean about Cul-De-Sacs. It’s that thing of not being able to make a quick exit out the back if you need to.
That’ll be a nice suprise for the ex-friend! Good job you’re extremely busy, you’ll have to do a lot of dashing in and out, no time for idle chatter with the neighbours.
Oh noooo….that’s not good. All sounding a bit Wisteria Lane to me. How long is your rental agreement??
Sending good vibes your way!!!!
Wow what a bizarre situation to be in - lots of potential for storylines, but jusut hope it doesn’t make your life too uncomfortable.
I grew up in a cul-de-sac and I thought it was great - much preferable to the racetrack road we had previously lived on - but I do remember my mum muttering a lot about ‘bloody coffee mornings’ and my dad suddenly starting to wash his car every week. Their form of rebellion was to turn the back garden into vegetable heaven - just think The Good Life and get yourself a goat :o)
I’m with JJ, I’m afraid. I do realise this is genuinely horrible and stressful for you. But the words you choose to describe it make it utterly hilarious for me. Er. Sorry.
KW - It’s not just that they’re Christians… but they’re, well, really clean too?
Kerry - um, how about cheese and herb scones? You know, special herbs… har, how fab a story would that make?!
Maddie - lovely bf reckons he’s going to dig a tunnel to safety. As for ex-friend, how I wish I’d bought a camera tripod to snap her surprised face when she ventures over the threshold with a pot of sugar…
Jumbly Sarah - ooh, you’ve gone all incognito. Oh, hope I’m not blowing your cover! I’m thinking growing goats, actually - and lovely bf has a goatee beard which he grew himself. We are practically organic hippies already, if you focus on beard-related activities?
Zinnia - I have more words. Seriously. And I’m not afraid to use them. Mwah ha ha ha ha…
My old house was in a similar suburban Hell, full of pristing monoblocks and a nice man who came in a van to clean everyone’s cookers. Screeeeeeaaaaaam.
But you will be fine, I am sure {{{{spiralskies}}}}}}}
Honeybear, you guys are just meant to move into the neighbourhood to show them all how to live a little and develop proper personality.
Oh dear, oh dear, ex friend living opposite. Seriously bad feng shui. Perhaps a bagua mirror would do the trick? Or some pins ina wax doll?
Swear away, you have my permission. I I doubt you will be able to add to your kids’ existing vocabulary or swearies.
£1300 pcm, cor blimey, that’s daylight robbery. I would go for the chicken shed option or a surreptitious tent in a kindly rich person’s garden
Be brave, Jen, be very brave. (My mouth became wider and wider the more I read of your post!)
Will miss meeting you this weekend. Hope everything goes okay for you xx
Hullabalooooo - oh, how much am I dreading ex-friend coming over to be nice to the new neighbours and then seeing me standing at the front door?! But, um, I quite like the sound of the man in the van to perform cooker-cleaning…
L-Plate Author - oh, you’re all going to be having fun without me and it’s not faaaaaair…
Just to say I’ve gone slightly incognito too. Nothing to do with unnecessary neighbours.! Just a strange Library Encounter…
Blimey! Sounds like a bad case of ‘everything happening at once’.
I hope it all settles down soon. I really, really hope you enjoy your photography course as well. I have learnt a lot on mine - well about how the camera actually works anyway! Good luck m’dear. Perhaps it will come as welcome distraction for everything else?
Hey Jen - there’s a we tag Meme thingy at my blog for you if you haven’t already done it
Hi Hon - I’ve just tagged you too!!
C x
Karen - Ooh, a strange library encounter eh? Sounds most intriguing.
Nez - Learning how the camera works will be a start, I’m useless. And I won’t need to go on a diet; I can just tweak myself thin
Kerry & Carol - thanks! That’s save me having to have any thoughts - all my ideas and sense must still be packed away in a box somewhere…
Hello! I think I wandered over from caroline’s blog.
My dad did that photography course! He really enjoyed it. Hope you do too.
Hope the move isn’t too nerve wracking!
Hello B! Ooh, it’s good to hear positive stuff about the course… I fear another addiction looming. How I’ll fit it in with discovering new blogs to read, I’ll never know… click, click, clicketty click…
The part about not really liking to talk to neighbours sounds so much like me. Having spent a number of years in a cul-de-sac with nosy f***wits all around, I can commiserate.
One one side were the fundamentalist Christians, a little menage a cinq with the deafening German Shepherd, inane father, peeping mother and daughter, and son who thought I’d make a good MILF. On the other side was old Spitty who leered at me, glared at my son, and tried to run over our puppy. Across the street was a somewhat dangerously sexy divorced man who livened up the mornings by screaming and cussing at the ex-wife on the phone. And all were fascinated by the thirty-something divorced mom (me) who had taken up residence in their little fishbowl. Arghhh!
It all sounds so funny when you describe it like that, but I know the reality and it’s very, very trying. Hang on to that sense of humour! And channel it all into the writing. (It was while living there that I began to write seriously.)
Lianne - Crumbs, your goldfish bowl was more exciting than mine is… nothing ever happens but I can tell everyone’s twitching at the curtains, waiting, waiting, waiting… aaarrrghhh!