The windows were open and all you could hear was the river, birds, and sheep in the distance. We had sleepy dreamy sex, then slept for a while. Then we walked along the river and found a little ancient chapel, where we pretended to get married and that the cows were our wedding guests. Eventually we came to another pub, and drank too much beer to quench our thirst and topped it with wine. There was no talk about breaking up. I did tell Roxster about being sacked from Leaves and he was so sweet and said they were all mad, and didn’t appreciate my rare genius, and he was going to fight them with his beefy arms. Then we ate a meal so gigantic that afterwards I could hardly move. I had this huge . . . thing in my stomach . . . it felt like being pregnant with a strange creature with very protuberant arms and legs.
We went outside to try and walk it off. There was a full moon, and I suddenly thought about Mabel: ‘There’th the moon. It followth me.’ I thought about Mark, and all the times the moon had followed us, and all the years when I was sure, sure that he would always be there and that there wasn’t heartbreak ahead, just years of being together, stretching before us.
‘You all right, baby?’ said Roxster.
‘I feel like I’ve eaten a Bambi,’ I laughed, to cover the moment.
‘I feel like I want to eat you,’ said Roxster. He put his arm round my shoulders and everything felt fine again. We walked along the river a bit, then got into a bog, and decided it was too dark and too far and went back to the pub and rang for a taxi.
When we got home to the room, the windows were wide open, and the room was filled with the scent of blossom and the gentle sound of the river. Unfortunately, though, the Bambi was so huge that all I could do was put on my slip and lie face downwards on the bed, feeling as though there was a massive dent beneath me in the mattress containing the Bambi. Then suddenly a dog started barking, really loudly, right outside the window. It just wouldn’t stop. Then the Bambi eased itself slightly and embarrassingly by letting out an enormous fart.
‘Jonesey!’ said Roxster. ‘Was that a fart?’
‘Maybe just a teensy-weensy little pfuff of Bambi,’ I said sheepishly.
‘Little pfuff? It was more like a plane taking off. It’s even silenced the dog!’
It had. But then the bloody dog started barking again. It was like being on a housing estate on the outskirts of Leeds.
‘I’ll give you something to take your mind off it, baby,’ said Roxster.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
10 p.m. Back in London now. Blissful. Got home at six feeling like a new woman. Children seemed to have had a really good time and I was delighted to see them again, and was so full of joie de vivre and bonhomie that even a Sunday evening, with the panic of forgotten homework, passed in a golden joy of 50s-style hearth and home. Better, Easier Parenting? Just get laid a lot.
Ooh, text.
Roxster: <Married life is pretty nice, don’t you think, honey?>
Hmm. Suspected a trick. Still wary from the whole confusion/panic attack thing.
Me: <*Farts* Not catching me out being lovey-dovey.>
Roxster: <*Sobs*>
Me: <*Evil cackle* I didn’t heart the weekend at all, honestly.>
Roxster: <Not even a teensy-weensy little bit?>
Me: <Well, maybe a minuscule bit only detectable to human eye using nit comb.>
Roxster: <Was it your least favourite Jonesey/Roxster outing of all time, then?>
Me: <If I say no, will you have a panic attack?>
Roxster: <Now that we’re married my panic attacks have totally disappeared.>
Me: <You see?>
Roxster: <Do you think it’s fair to say I work in Philanthropy on my CV?>
Me: <You mean by marrying me?>
Roxster: <Yes. I could say I’m working for Help the Aged.>
Me: <Bog off.>
Roxster: <Oh, Jonesey. Nighty-night, darling.>
Me: <Nighty-night, Roxster.>
IS IT SNOW OR IS IT BLOSSOM?
Tuesday 11 June 2013
133lb, days since any communication from Roxster 2, amount of day spent worrying about lack of communication from Roxster 95%, mass emails re Sports Day chopped vegetables 76, spam emails 104, combined minutes late for school pickups 9, number of sides on a pentagon (unknown).
2 p.m. Very weird weather – is freezing cold and little white things swirling about. Cannot be snow, surely – is June. Maybe is blossom? But so much of it.
2.05 p.m. Roxster has not called or texted since Sunday night.
2.10 p.m. It is snow. But not nice snow like in the winter. Is strange snow. Presumably world about to end through global warming. Think will go to Starbucks.