The return of the man from Milan

Friday, January 9 09

The man from Milan arrived back just before 2am. Mrs Bennet was conscious of someone creeping around the bed, with not a lot on, and presuming it was her husband, grunted and went back to sleep. Unfortunately Mr-Smiley-alarm-clock wasn't too pleased by his arrival. In her sleep, Mrs Bennet had thrown out the now cold teddy bear and it had landed on the clock, almost suffocating it. Hence it didn't ring in the morning so Mr and Mrs Bennet overslept. Neither of them were quite with it and Mrs Bennet did her best to put the military procedure into action, but it lacked the authority it normally did and rebellion set in.
"I'm not going to school unless you help me do up my shoes Mummy!" cried out an indignant Miss Bennet Number Three while she desperately tried to keep a bottom on the changing mat before it ran off in its full glory. Mrs Bennet suddenly realised she'd left porridge in the microwave too late and it merrily spewed out its white lumpy gunge. She left the uncovered bottom and ran to the kitchen, trying to clear up the gunk before the inevitable cry came from the lounge.
"Mummy, Rosie's done a wee on the carpet!"
"Oh, great.....Ok coming!" Mrs Bennet grabbed the essential cleaning tools and got on her knees to clear up the next spillage.
"Right no one else dare cough, wee, whinge or spill anything down them!" she announced to the half-dressed brood.
How they got out of the door, she didn't know. Yesterday, with the man still in Milan, she was able to function quite well, was organised and efficient. Today, with him back, she couldn't even put on matching socks and as she left the building, managed to skid on a tiny plastic Dora figurine, and had to grab on to the rather hot radiator to stop herself falling.
"Ouch!" she yelled, still not quite awake. She stumbled outside, nursing her fingers and smiled at the Darcys in the Dirt who had just arrived for the day. They were used to seeing the Mrs Bennet early-morning-look. May be they secretly admired her for coping with five daughters, or more likely they thought she was utterly mad. Mrs Batty Bennet didn't care, she smiled at them, and made a note to grow old "disgracefully."....then noticed a blob of lumpy porridge on the back of her black jeans.