Isle of Wight – day 3

Wednesday 26^th July – am

I was awoken by Vivien at 6am. I felt hot; my skin was red, and my forehead on fire. My left eye stuck shut, so I dipped my fingers in to my water and flicked the cool liquid onto my eyelid. I lay for a second wondering why we age. Why do we have this menopause? Why does my eye never open, what is the meaning of life and why the ruddy fuck is Vivien on a skateboard at 6am.

She whizzed into the bedroom and quickly scuttled out as I sat up and belted out a deep Noooooo from the depth of my stomach.  Carolyn shot up from her doze and looked left and right in a speedy movement I had not seen since Pans People danced on TOTP. Alas there was no sexy look upon her face – she was angry.  I pretended I was dozy and slowly lay my head upon the pillow and closed my eyes.  I heard her swear a little as she headed to the kitchen.  I coughed and asked in my ever so nice voice if she would make me a cup of hot water and lemon. She told me to bugger off.

I could hear the rustling of things in the kitchen and the faint noise coming from the sitting room TV.  I lay back and slipped into my mindfulness state.  Breathing deeply through my nose and out through my mouth. I tried to mentally ignore the noises from the kitchen, and instead focussed on my breathing. Boredom overtook me, I felt a bit light headed, giddy and panicky. I tried to control my breathing, visualising how our day would be today, sun, sea, snifter with Jolyon + Cath, I grinned a little until Vivien came whizzing up the corridor and into the bedroom  again crashing into the bedside table and spilling my water.  My one good eye opened wide as the left eye stung like fuck.  It was time to get up.

The girls were eating breakfast; their shoulders and faces were bright red after a day in the sun. We had not expected it to be so hot. Carolyn’s face was shiny red with little white circles where her glasses had sat. I ran into the bathroom and stared at my own face.  It was florid and patchy. My face resembled a baboon’s ass.

We decided to spend the day chillaxing. A word I hate but I thought I would throw it in.  The sky was grey. It was raining. The forecast for the week was no different.  To make matters worse I had only packed summer stuff.

I smothered the girls with more Hemp body cream as they watched some animated rubbish and thought about lunch today.  My eccentric brother Jolyon (Lord Miller to his family) and his g/f Cath were in Yarmouth for a few days.  The plan was to go collect them and bring them back to Seaview as we had booked a table at a rather nice restaurant.

We were all excited to go and see them.  The journey was no more than 25 minutes.

What could possibly go wrong?

 

Isle of Wight – Day 2

Tuesday 25^th July.

I awoke with a start, I had no idea where I was. My sticky left eye hurt as I tried to peel it open. Another menopausal delight I have had to suffer with. Fuck, I had left my very expensive sticky eye mist at home. I grabbed my glass of water and gently tipped it onto my eyelid. As the cool liquid flowed down my cheek I noticed Ruby at the end of the bed staring at me. Don’t ask I screeched as she ran out crying.  The water engulfed my ruddy face and I coughed and spluttered and swore to the almighty above.

The noise from the kitchen was causing me concern. Carolyn was explaining to the girls why we could not take scooters, dollies, a skateboard and a ruddy Buzz Lightyear toy to the beach.  I screamed from the bedroom, NO NO NO! And coughed a little.

I dragged my aching bones into the kitchen regretting guzzling the cheap bottle of bubbles to myself last night.  Since Carolyn had stopped drinking I feel as though I have lost a limb. My lip quivered for a nano second, a sadness engulfed me, and then went away.  I walked into the kitchen, my skeletal toes crackled with each slow step. I swallowed my calcium tabs, my vitamin tabs, my thyroid tabs, a couple of nurofen and drank my daily pint of hot water and lemon. Today we were off to the beach and I felt like shit!

We left the house like a family of gypsies. Bags of towels, bags of buckets of spades, bags of food and bags of ruddy bags. FFS I thought, I used to laugh out loud at families like us – now I’m one of them. I decided not to bring my bathing suit, I had slipped it on in Henley before we left and was quite shocked to see how much weight I had put on. I had fatty testicles hanging from under each armpit, fat wings on my back and what I can only describe as a front bottom asshole.  As I stood in front of the mirror with my tight shiny suit on, arms up, legs apart, there was no way I could be seen in any ruddy country in any ruddy sea.  I walked across my room, feeling a slight pinch around my nether regions.  I was too old for this – give me an old pair of black knickers and a beach in St Tropez where my titties can spread their wings and fall like udders covered in Ambre Solaire oil anyday.  I’m no swimming costume kinda gal.  With that I ripped it off and binned it.

The beach was sandy and pebbly. The tide was out. The coffee/bar was open and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The girls skipped and danced with excitement. It was quite a long way to the sea as the tide was so far out, but I managed to find a good spot on the pebbles. And so we started to unpack, and unpack, and lay down the rugs, the towels, and get out the plastic crap. I managed to bundle all the towels under my head so I was not uncomfortable as I continued to read my Mindfulness book. I turned on my kindle and started to breathe in slowly through my nose and out my mouth. I was in the moment. It was at that point I heard the buzzing of an insect, an insect I knew only too well.  The wasp had found the food and was circling it like Indians round a wagon trail. I dread to think what the holidaymakers thought as they sat drinking their tea from the cafe above the beach as I simulated a woman fitting below, wailing and thrusting my arms around like Kate Bush on acid. The wasp was teasing me, flying into my face and then off into the air as I yelled obscenities and tried hard to hit it with anything close by.  I threw the bucket of shells into the air and each shell came crashing down upon us like a ruddy hail shower

I wiped the tears away from the girls and told Carolyn we were moving. I suggested we pack the food, the plastic buckets, the towels, and anything else we could find and move further away from the sea,  as the tide was coming in.  As I sat at the cafe looking down at Carolyn carrying the heavy bags to our new location, I went back to my mindfulness; I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath, ejected that deep breath, sipped my chilled wine and squashed the wasp that landed on the table.  Fuck you Mr Wasp.  Fuck You.