Monday, October 27 08
Mrs Bennet was apprehensive about entering the dark mouth of a multi-storey car park. She felt she was being swallowed whole by a giant beast then left to nervously navigate sharp bends of its intestines.
If she was lucky she was deposited unscathed at the bottom. Today she had obviously upset its delicate stomach.
At the ticket machine, she slipped the piece of card through the appropriate slot and waited for the computer to tell her how much she owed.
“Duration of stay: 2 days, 31 minutes. To pay: £10.80.”
“What? You must be joking!” cried Mrs Bennet in disbelief. She looked helplessly at the Miss Twin Bennets who were objecting that their chariot had stopped. Ordering herself to stay calm, she pressed the button labelled “call for assistance,” and was promptly and politely told: “Your call is in a queue, we will come to you shortly.”
Mrs Bennet didn’t feel polite after the voice repeated its message for the third time. By then other ticket holders were congregating around the talking machine. Like her they longed to get out of the dark beast’s belly. Rummaging in her back pocket, Mrs Bennet discovered another ticket and more importantly the reason for the confusion.
“I don’t believe it! Mr Bennet came to town on Saturday and I’ve only gone and put his old ticket into the machine. No wonder the machine thinks I’ve slept here for two nights!”
In laughing at her own mistake Mrs Bennet calmed herself down and noticed a cancel button she hadn’t spotted earlier. She pressed it and Mr Bennet’s ticket was returned. Mrs Bennet jumped as the machine, bereft of its £10.80 suddenly spoke.
“Can I help you?” asked the husky male voice from inside the tin box. Mrs Bennet expected Mr Darcy to open the door and walk out.
“No, it’s OK. I’ve been told I’ve been inside this car park for more than two days and I assure you that is not the case. I put the wrong ticket in, sorry,” she said, hating to admit her stupidity to the invisible man.
“No problem. Glad everything’s alright. Take care,” replied the kind voice.
Driving away, five minutes later, Mrs Bennet felt like Jonah after the whale spat him out – embarrassed yet relieved she was still intact.
Tuesday, 28 October 2008
Sunday, 26 October 2008
Shaken but not stirred
Friday, October 24 08
The radiators rattled, Mrs Bennet’s bottom shook on her chair while three doors away her neighbour enjoyed a Jacuzzi. It was all thanks to the latest building brigade in the Bennet garden. The Bingleys had moved in. They were foundation specialists on loan for just five days to ensure the Bennet household didn’t crumble.
“If your house feels as if it’s moving, don’t worry it won’t fall down,” one of the Bingleys had reassured Mrs Bennet as they arrived with drills, long metal tubes and cement mixers.
As they drilled holes eight metres deep, she wasn’t convinced. This was serious dental treatment. Mrs Bennet was grateful it wasn’t her teeth on the receiving end.
Miss Bennets One, Two and Three were at school and therefore away from the excitement. But having been deprived of male action for a week, the little twin Bennets were ecstatic. Their tiny bodies were glued to the lounge window, button noses pressed against the glass and rose-bud lips creating kiss marks. The Bingleys gave them the occasional smile but remained focus on the job in hand. Mrs Bennet couldn’t focus so she took the twins out, long enough to tire them. Amazingly, on their return, they slept for two hours as the house – and their cots – shook beneath them. Mrs Bennet tried to edit a radio interview but as she couldn’t hear anything but drilling through her headphones, gave up. As her seat suddenly turned into a massage chair, she let it do its work. Relaxing, Mrs Bennet pondered, recalling her neighbour’s comments as she apologised for the disruption.
“The builders can stay as long as they like. I was having a bath this afternoon and it’s the first time I’ve ever had a Jacuzzi in it!”
Mrs Bennet, now soothed by her vibrating chair, was tempted.
“The twins are asleep, perhaps I’ll have a bath myself!” she contemplated.
Running upstairs to the bathroom, she turned on the hot water tap, then reconsidered.
“Better not. What if the Bingleys need the toilet and come in? That would take some explaining when Mr Bennet got home,” she thought. The Jacuzzi moment had gone so Mrs Bennet went back to her massage chair, stuck cotton wool in her ears and dozed off for half an hour.
The radiators rattled, Mrs Bennet’s bottom shook on her chair while three doors away her neighbour enjoyed a Jacuzzi. It was all thanks to the latest building brigade in the Bennet garden. The Bingleys had moved in. They were foundation specialists on loan for just five days to ensure the Bennet household didn’t crumble.
“If your house feels as if it’s moving, don’t worry it won’t fall down,” one of the Bingleys had reassured Mrs Bennet as they arrived with drills, long metal tubes and cement mixers.
As they drilled holes eight metres deep, she wasn’t convinced. This was serious dental treatment. Mrs Bennet was grateful it wasn’t her teeth on the receiving end.
Miss Bennets One, Two and Three were at school and therefore away from the excitement. But having been deprived of male action for a week, the little twin Bennets were ecstatic. Their tiny bodies were glued to the lounge window, button noses pressed against the glass and rose-bud lips creating kiss marks. The Bingleys gave them the occasional smile but remained focus on the job in hand. Mrs Bennet couldn’t focus so she took the twins out, long enough to tire them. Amazingly, on their return, they slept for two hours as the house – and their cots – shook beneath them. Mrs Bennet tried to edit a radio interview but as she couldn’t hear anything but drilling through her headphones, gave up. As her seat suddenly turned into a massage chair, she let it do its work. Relaxing, Mrs Bennet pondered, recalling her neighbour’s comments as she apologised for the disruption.
“The builders can stay as long as they like. I was having a bath this afternoon and it’s the first time I’ve ever had a Jacuzzi in it!”
Mrs Bennet, now soothed by her vibrating chair, was tempted.
“The twins are asleep, perhaps I’ll have a bath myself!” she contemplated.
Running upstairs to the bathroom, she turned on the hot water tap, then reconsidered.
“Better not. What if the Bingleys need the toilet and come in? That would take some explaining when Mr Bennet got home,” she thought. The Jacuzzi moment had gone so Mrs Bennet went back to her massage chair, stuck cotton wool in her ears and dozed off for half an hour.
Friday, 17 October 2008
A strange peace at Pemberley
Friday, October 17 08
There was a kind of hush in the Bennet household but it wasn't the sound of lovers in love. Quite the contrary. The little Twin Bennets were distraught. The Darcys in the dirt had disappeared. Their tools had gone, their digger had gone, and so had their smiling faces. Miss Kezia Bennet was most confused. Having had a week of entertainment watching the grown-up boys playing happily in their giant sandpit, she was now looking at an empty muddy back garden. Its only inhabitant was a neighbour's cat, which made her tremble in fright and reach up to her mother for a reassuring cuddle. The Darcys made her squeal in delight and point in their direction, encouraging Mrs Bennet to share the moment, which of course she couldn't because Mr Bennet might get jealous. But after much activity and sweat, this week there had been an eerie silence. Not one muscle or mound of earth moved. And the bite-size Pemberley was not even a morsel. To start with Mrs Bennet was relieved. With drills pounding at full pelt and daughters droning and demanding with equal force, the noise levels had hurt Mrs Bennet's poor ears. But the non-activity was bugging her now. The builders weren't at fault. It was the soil. It apparently wasn't very good and on looking at it, building regulation inspectors had ruled that foundations for the extension would have be of the most expensive variety which needed specialists in to do the job. It meant sadly for the moment the Darcys in the dirt were surplus to requirement. Trying to explain that to a 17-month-old twin was not an easy matter. All week Mrs Bennet lived with a fear that the cost would be so staggeringly high, that she and the rest of the Bennets would be left in a pile of rubble with a demolished garage and conservatory. In a calmer moment, she did think that if plans all went to pot, Mr Bennet could always turn the turned up soil and concrete in the back garden into an allotment. But in the stressed moments - which were unfortunately more common - Mrs Bennet felt she was living in a mess. There was something reassuring about activity. At least something was happening. And today, even she was missing the Darcys in the dirt. She had not yet got round to admitting that fact to Mr Bennet. He wanted to be the only Mr Darcy in her life. But thankfully he knew his wife well enough to know she wouldn't trade him in for another.
There was a kind of hush in the Bennet household but it wasn't the sound of lovers in love. Quite the contrary. The little Twin Bennets were distraught. The Darcys in the dirt had disappeared. Their tools had gone, their digger had gone, and so had their smiling faces. Miss Kezia Bennet was most confused. Having had a week of entertainment watching the grown-up boys playing happily in their giant sandpit, she was now looking at an empty muddy back garden. Its only inhabitant was a neighbour's cat, which made her tremble in fright and reach up to her mother for a reassuring cuddle. The Darcys made her squeal in delight and point in their direction, encouraging Mrs Bennet to share the moment, which of course she couldn't because Mr Bennet might get jealous. But after much activity and sweat, this week there had been an eerie silence. Not one muscle or mound of earth moved. And the bite-size Pemberley was not even a morsel. To start with Mrs Bennet was relieved. With drills pounding at full pelt and daughters droning and demanding with equal force, the noise levels had hurt Mrs Bennet's poor ears. But the non-activity was bugging her now. The builders weren't at fault. It was the soil. It apparently wasn't very good and on looking at it, building regulation inspectors had ruled that foundations for the extension would have be of the most expensive variety which needed specialists in to do the job. It meant sadly for the moment the Darcys in the dirt were surplus to requirement. Trying to explain that to a 17-month-old twin was not an easy matter. All week Mrs Bennet lived with a fear that the cost would be so staggeringly high, that she and the rest of the Bennets would be left in a pile of rubble with a demolished garage and conservatory. In a calmer moment, she did think that if plans all went to pot, Mr Bennet could always turn the turned up soil and concrete in the back garden into an allotment. But in the stressed moments - which were unfortunately more common - Mrs Bennet felt she was living in a mess. There was something reassuring about activity. At least something was happening. And today, even she was missing the Darcys in the dirt. She had not yet got round to admitting that fact to Mr Bennet. He wanted to be the only Mr Darcy in her life. But thankfully he knew his wife well enough to know she wouldn't trade him in for another.
Monday, 13 October 2008
Put a sock in it
Monday, October 13 08
Having emptied the contents of a pink waste bin, Mrs Bennet was surrounded by a sea of socks. Multi-coloured spotty socks, baby socks, white school socks, pink heart socks, "I love Mummy" socks, red socks, purple socks and striped blue and yellow socks surrounded a single male-sized black sock which looked out of place amongst the female foot warmers. To his credit, the male sock was in a minority for the right reason. All his male companions were still attached to their mates. The female versions on the other hand were having serious relationship problems. If they had once been married or committed to their partner, they were no longer attached. It didn't look good. The Bennet Socks were in desperate need of relationship counselling."Mr Bennet just what are we going to do with them all? I have 144 socks in front of me and only 14 are part of a pair. Where do they go? Some of them have hardly been worn!" she looked in desperation at her husband, who was rather proud that his socks obviously carried the anointing when it came to staying together."The vacuum cleaner sucked one up the other day and I managed to retrieve it from the dust," replied her husband. "That's only one sock? What about the rest? Pants and bras don't have this problem, so why do socks?!""My dear, I don't know," mumbled Mr Bennet, preferring to watch a television programme about big cats.Mrs Bennet turned to Mr Google for the answer. He came back with 595,000 references to odd socks. The Sock Monster was largely to blame, but among the explanations, was a suggestion that the socks were cannibals and ate each other up. Mrs Bennet wasn't convinced and was determined to love-match a few lost soles.
"I've found another pair...oh, and another!" declared an excited Mr Bennet, who hadn't given up hope after all. The sock bin was seven years old. With 18 socks now happily paired up, there were only 126 to find mates for. And there now wasn't one black sock among them. Mr Bennet was thrilled. His wife hadn’t noticed the lone male sock was hidden in his pocket.
Having emptied the contents of a pink waste bin, Mrs Bennet was surrounded by a sea of socks. Multi-coloured spotty socks, baby socks, white school socks, pink heart socks, "I love Mummy" socks, red socks, purple socks and striped blue and yellow socks surrounded a single male-sized black sock which looked out of place amongst the female foot warmers. To his credit, the male sock was in a minority for the right reason. All his male companions were still attached to their mates. The female versions on the other hand were having serious relationship problems. If they had once been married or committed to their partner, they were no longer attached. It didn't look good. The Bennet Socks were in desperate need of relationship counselling."Mr Bennet just what are we going to do with them all? I have 144 socks in front of me and only 14 are part of a pair. Where do they go? Some of them have hardly been worn!" she looked in desperation at her husband, who was rather proud that his socks obviously carried the anointing when it came to staying together."The vacuum cleaner sucked one up the other day and I managed to retrieve it from the dust," replied her husband. "That's only one sock? What about the rest? Pants and bras don't have this problem, so why do socks?!""My dear, I don't know," mumbled Mr Bennet, preferring to watch a television programme about big cats.Mrs Bennet turned to Mr Google for the answer. He came back with 595,000 references to odd socks. The Sock Monster was largely to blame, but among the explanations, was a suggestion that the socks were cannibals and ate each other up. Mrs Bennet wasn't convinced and was determined to love-match a few lost soles.
"I've found another pair...oh, and another!" declared an excited Mr Bennet, who hadn't given up hope after all. The sock bin was seven years old. With 18 socks now happily paired up, there were only 126 to find mates for. And there now wasn't one black sock among them. Mr Bennet was thrilled. His wife hadn’t noticed the lone male sock was hidden in his pocket.
Tuesday, 7 October 2008
Four Darcys and a little lady
Monday, October 6 08
The little Miss Twin Bennets were mesmerised. Never had they seen so many men in a confined space. To watch one male was plenty, to watch four was almost too much. Outside where the conservatory once stood, the building quartet was busy at work, drilling up rubble and knocking down walls. Miss Kezia was particularly hooked. A dainty sandwich which normally went straight into her mouth was stuck half-way between face and plate. She could not possibly watch and eat at the same time. The other hand was pointing at the foreign human objects, accompanied by “ooh” and “aah” sounds which she did well. If the twins were seventeen rather than 17 months, the scene might have provoked a different response. As it was, the Darcys in the dirt, rippling their muscles, were out of bounds, despite Miss Kezia’s efforts to get their attention.
After almost two years in limbo, failing to sell and waiting for planning permission, change was finally in the air for the Bennet family. Builders were building a pint-sized Pemberley out of the three-bedroom semi to accommodate the five Bennet daughters and their parents. Mrs Bennet had only agreed to this on one condition.
“Do you want a wife at the end of all this? Because if you do, the only way I’m putting up with this is by moving out,” she’d told her husband and that was that. But that was not that and they were all still there, living most of the day in a lounge. They were surrounded. Surrounded by a group of very friendly and polite builders, but surrounded none the less.
At least from Mr Bennet’s point of view, the hormones were balanced out by a surge of testosterone, something the Bennet girls knew nothing about - yet. Miss Kezia Bennet watched it all, goggle-eyed through a pane of glass. Miss Rosie Bennet soon lost interest. Pulling the newspapers out of the magazine rack was far more fun.
Mrs Bennet on the other hand, wasn’t sure Mr Bennet would have a wife at the end of it. She had left her mind somewhere. She acknowledged this when she went upstairs to put one of the twins to bed and leaning over the cot, realised the baby was still in the car! Mrs Bennet seriously considered getting into the cot herself.
The little Miss Twin Bennets were mesmerised. Never had they seen so many men in a confined space. To watch one male was plenty, to watch four was almost too much. Outside where the conservatory once stood, the building quartet was busy at work, drilling up rubble and knocking down walls. Miss Kezia was particularly hooked. A dainty sandwich which normally went straight into her mouth was stuck half-way between face and plate. She could not possibly watch and eat at the same time. The other hand was pointing at the foreign human objects, accompanied by “ooh” and “aah” sounds which she did well. If the twins were seventeen rather than 17 months, the scene might have provoked a different response. As it was, the Darcys in the dirt, rippling their muscles, were out of bounds, despite Miss Kezia’s efforts to get their attention.
After almost two years in limbo, failing to sell and waiting for planning permission, change was finally in the air for the Bennet family. Builders were building a pint-sized Pemberley out of the three-bedroom semi to accommodate the five Bennet daughters and their parents. Mrs Bennet had only agreed to this on one condition.
“Do you want a wife at the end of all this? Because if you do, the only way I’m putting up with this is by moving out,” she’d told her husband and that was that. But that was not that and they were all still there, living most of the day in a lounge. They were surrounded. Surrounded by a group of very friendly and polite builders, but surrounded none the less.
At least from Mr Bennet’s point of view, the hormones were balanced out by a surge of testosterone, something the Bennet girls knew nothing about - yet. Miss Kezia Bennet watched it all, goggle-eyed through a pane of glass. Miss Rosie Bennet soon lost interest. Pulling the newspapers out of the magazine rack was far more fun.
Mrs Bennet on the other hand, wasn’t sure Mr Bennet would have a wife at the end of it. She had left her mind somewhere. She acknowledged this when she went upstairs to put one of the twins to bed and leaning over the cot, realised the baby was still in the car! Mrs Bennet seriously considered getting into the cot herself.
Monday, 6 October 2008
Nothing fits!
Saturday, October 4 08
Mrs Bennet shot out of her noisy, cluttered house into the plush, immaculate courtesy car on the drive and sank into its luxurious leather seat. She rested her head on the steering wheel and resisted the urge to press the horn very loudly. This was not good. She knew it was going to be tough, but living in a lounge with six other bodies for hours on end, was doing her head in. The Sat Nav didn't work so she couldn't programme it to take her off to some exotic place, so instead she sat motionless, allowing the silence to wash over her in calming waves. It took at least 10 minutes for it to have any effect. She was so worked up. Never in her life had she felt so stressed. She stared straight ahead at the empty garage. Change was afoot, she knew that, but it didn't take away the immediate problem. There was just nowhere to get a minute's peace. She so related to Jill Murphy's Large Family stories where Mother Elephant couldn't even have a bath without her children following her.
She'd just returned from doing the weekly shop. But she'd bought too many frozen items and had forgotten the garage's chest freezer was now sitting on the front lawn waiting to be collected. The garage was being pulled down within days. The tiny kitchen freezer desperately needed defrosting and wouldn't let Mrs Bennet give it any more offerings. Instead it gave her an offering - several shards of ice which fell on the floor and formed a puddle around the unpacked shopping. Meanwhile, one by one little Bennets appeared, expecting her to respond immediately to their requests.
Miss Naomi Bennet wanted her mother to find oil pastels for an important picture she intended to draw; Miss Emily Bennet needed Mrs Bennet to find two pairs of baby socks for her dolls the twins no longer used and Miss Megan suddenly announced that she had to have a blanket for her doll because it needed a nap. And only Mummy was allowed to fetch it. Miss Kezia Bennet was shaking the milk out of its bottle to create a white mottled effect on the lounge carpet and Miss Rosie Bennet was pulling anything and everything she could out of every drawer she could find. She had also perfected her throwing technique and was particularly good at hurling playdough at her poor mother.
Mrs Bennet was also struggling under a mound of washing, work commissions which had tight deadlines and sleepless nights due to wakeful twins. She didn't have enough arms, hours or space. But for now, this plush brand new car, which she knew would have to go back in a couple of days, was her life saver. She listened to a track which included the lyric, "I'm gonna fly, no one knows where, I'm gonna fly, soaring through the air...."
She looked up through the sun roof and watched an aeroplane overhead leave its vapour trail behind. "One day I'll fly," she thought. Just another six months and she'd have a house to spread her wings in and a shed to fly to when she needed it.
"I just might need something stronger than Mr Latte to help me get there," she decided, "mmmm I think Mr Champagne would do very well."
Mrs Bennet shot out of her noisy, cluttered house into the plush, immaculate courtesy car on the drive and sank into its luxurious leather seat. She rested her head on the steering wheel and resisted the urge to press the horn very loudly. This was not good. She knew it was going to be tough, but living in a lounge with six other bodies for hours on end, was doing her head in. The Sat Nav didn't work so she couldn't programme it to take her off to some exotic place, so instead she sat motionless, allowing the silence to wash over her in calming waves. It took at least 10 minutes for it to have any effect. She was so worked up. Never in her life had she felt so stressed. She stared straight ahead at the empty garage. Change was afoot, she knew that, but it didn't take away the immediate problem. There was just nowhere to get a minute's peace. She so related to Jill Murphy's Large Family stories where Mother Elephant couldn't even have a bath without her children following her.
She'd just returned from doing the weekly shop. But she'd bought too many frozen items and had forgotten the garage's chest freezer was now sitting on the front lawn waiting to be collected. The garage was being pulled down within days. The tiny kitchen freezer desperately needed defrosting and wouldn't let Mrs Bennet give it any more offerings. Instead it gave her an offering - several shards of ice which fell on the floor and formed a puddle around the unpacked shopping. Meanwhile, one by one little Bennets appeared, expecting her to respond immediately to their requests.
Miss Naomi Bennet wanted her mother to find oil pastels for an important picture she intended to draw; Miss Emily Bennet needed Mrs Bennet to find two pairs of baby socks for her dolls the twins no longer used and Miss Megan suddenly announced that she had to have a blanket for her doll because it needed a nap. And only Mummy was allowed to fetch it. Miss Kezia Bennet was shaking the milk out of its bottle to create a white mottled effect on the lounge carpet and Miss Rosie Bennet was pulling anything and everything she could out of every drawer she could find. She had also perfected her throwing technique and was particularly good at hurling playdough at her poor mother.
Mrs Bennet was also struggling under a mound of washing, work commissions which had tight deadlines and sleepless nights due to wakeful twins. She didn't have enough arms, hours or space. But for now, this plush brand new car, which she knew would have to go back in a couple of days, was her life saver. She listened to a track which included the lyric, "I'm gonna fly, no one knows where, I'm gonna fly, soaring through the air...."
She looked up through the sun roof and watched an aeroplane overhead leave its vapour trail behind. "One day I'll fly," she thought. Just another six months and she'd have a house to spread her wings in and a shed to fly to when she needed it.
"I just might need something stronger than Mr Latte to help me get there," she decided, "mmmm I think Mr Champagne would do very well."
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