Other People's Children

27th October

Ballet turns out to be most extraordinary and does not compare well to breathtaking performance of Romeo & Juliet by same company. Fear I am too much of philistine to truly appreciate modern ballet and as additionally too cheap to buy program am somewhat confused by modern ballet that goes thus: Scene 1 Woman washes hair at top of stair case and leaves with stomach ache (Have sneaking suspicion this is symbolic of birth). Scene 2: 3 women (muses I think) unwrap half naked man from vast amounts of toilet paper. Scene 3 Semi naked man returns with what appears to be pair of woman's knickers wrapped round top half and proceeds to dance what I can only describe as "if Freddie Mercury did Thumper in Bambi on Ice … with lute" before leading entire troupe in apparent suicide bid up original staircase. Can't help but think that by now most of audience would be happy to join them. Serious old gentlemen next to me is in paroxysms of laughter that make me feel better about my confusion and several members of audience gamely clap at every pause in music apparently in hopes that this is finale, but sadly this only seems to stir orchestra to yet greater efforts. Later discover that this was the birth of Apollo. Am much cheered by subsequent performance of Firebird which has plot I can (mostly) follow (right up to the bit where the old king is vanquished by dropping a giant egg apparently containing his soul) although I am somewhat distracted by the principal lead who appears to be suffering from what I must describe as box creepage!

Weekend heralds monthly visit of HTB's 2 children, this is subject of some anxiety as is daughter E's first visit. C who has been here before shows older sister around with all seriousness of Mrs. Danvers showing around the new Mrs. DeWinter while HTB and self stand around in hall in manner of old family retainers awaiting approval.

Within minutes of arrival, or so it seems, feel first tickle of new cold.


Saturday 28th

Awake with full blown head cold to raucous tones of children trying to be quiet. Firmly shut my ears on basis that sheer volume of "shushing" enough to tell me that neither child has succeeded in killing other and prod HTB in back to let him know his children are awake.

Get up sometime later to mostly quiet house. A quick peek in the children's room reveals a floor entirely covered in items that weren't there the night before and some of which, disturbingly, I can't even identify as belonging to us. Follow trail of clothing downstairs in search of coffee, which HTB sensibly thrusts at me in manner of well trained theatre nurse anticipating needs of surgeon, before announcing he is taking the children in search of pumpkins.

Spend afternoon removing "yucky stuff" from 4 enormous pumpkins.

HTB takes children swimming, which actually means he sits in the Jacuzzi while they attempt to drown each other on the slides.

Planned family evening at local bonfire disrupted when C announces he doesn't like fireworks as they get in his eyes and he wants to watch Nemo as he hasn't seen it in forever. Both statements patently untrue but completely unassailable and console myself that Finding Nemo at least positive story about father and son and new step mother as opposed to E's current obsession with Cinderella which quite frankly I think is terrible slur on step mothers.

Pumpkin soup for tea. C who liked last year doesn't any more, E who didn't does. Have enough left to feed small African nation.

Evening goes well. HTB and E return to find C and myself in PJs lying on our backs, waving our legs in the air and reading Cat in the Hat loudly. C later heard to say this was best part of weekend and I am absurdly flattered.


Sunday 29th

Carve pumpkins, I as usual am carried away and do elaborate scene of witch with cauldron , which I regret when I am still carving when everyone else has finished. Go on to make home made mincemeat for Christmas. E says can she have hers without currants as she doesn't like them. Start to say she can pick them out if can tell difference between them and raisins as I can't, but too reminiscent of test set by step-mother in childhood version of Cinderella regarding peas, beans and rice, so stop.

Rest of day taken up with Sunday lunch, more swimming, riding lessons for E, collecting chicken coop and picking up clothes from every room in house and returning them to suitcase.

On parting C states his intention of running away to circus. Remind him of his aversion to eating fire, but he says he is older now (1 month!) and thinks he can manage it. Resist temptation to point out that since he requires most food to be served at what can best be described as botulism tepid this highly unlikely and instead kiss him and say if this is what he wants we will of course come and visit.

Make half hearted attempt to tidy house and then resolutely do nothing for rest of evening until bed time. On basis that children leave house alive and gin supply is not entirely depleted, count weekend success.