Lost Weekend- part one

Friday got off to a bad start.  That Fucking Dog, as the Terror is also known, managed to escape from the garden when I let him out for his morning crap.  His absence was discovered approximately 30 seconds before I had to leave to take a car load of children to the school bus.  I hurtled up there at breakneck speed and turfed them out, before haring home, pausing only to screech to a halt at the bus stop to tearfully demand if the waiting passengers had seen a little dog,

 "Just a very little dog, he has run awaaaaaaaaay, waaaaah."

I burst into the house on my return, shouting

"There is no milk, I couldn't go to the shop, my dog is MISSING."

And then had a total breakdown in the kitchen before the DC rather brusquely suggested I'd be better going out to look for That Fucking Dog, instead of standing in the kitchen, crying hysterically. 

I dashed back into the road, loudly whistling and shouting for the Terror, which must've gone down a storm with the neighbours, as it was still only 7.30am.  Under the guise of searching for him, I also had a good nosy round several of their gardens and realised that even when distraught, I can still judge through my tears. 

Eventually, the Terror was located, frolicking gaily around the rolling lawns of T' Big 'Ouse, at the top of the road.  I grabbed him and we fled, before his trespass was discovered, they have several cats and he seemed overly pleased with himself.

Friday night, I was due to go to Maddy's for much booze and hilarity.  On the way, I had to pick up someone's else's child from tennis and deliver him home.  As I was leaving, I got a text from Maddy:

"DISASTER!  HAVE PIMMS, NO MINT!  BRING MUCH MINT, MUCH PIMMS!!!!!!"

I was wearing most impractical shoes, so I tottered to the back door and pathetically implored the DC to pick me much mint, which he helpfully placed in a nice little clear ziplock bag that I tossed on the passenger seat. 

As I screeched up to the tennis courts, somewhat late due to my mint detour, I happened to look down at the mint, and realised that frankly it looked rather like something a bit illegal.  It was too late, the child had got in the car and was looking at it, with raised eyebrows, being of a sufficient age to be taught that 'Drugs are baaaaaaaaaad, n'k?  Don't do drugs.'  I babbled hopelessly of "Mint!  Mint for our Pimms, such fun." but I think he was sceptical and went home to tell everyone his mum's friend is a drug dealer. 

I staggered, in the Shoes of Doom, into Maddy's and was rewarded with a giant turbo charged Pimms, from her new Pimms dispenser, of which I am most envious.  As Maddy had decided it was far too much fag to go back and forth to the kitchen fetching drinks all night, she also pressed a large glass of wine on everyone, to tide them over, and cut down on her hostessing, leaving her free to get pissed.

All was joy, until Pseudo Lefty Mum arrived.  We all know a Pseudo Lefty Mum or Dad, I'm sure.  They are the sort of people who very ostentatiously read the Guardian and make sure we all know they read the Guardian by posting endless Guardian parenting articles on Facebook.  When a cause or petition has been around long enough for them to decide it is cool, they will also post lots of links to it from suitably cool leftish sources.  They will be very vocal about the fact that they would never dream of voting anything but Labour, and probably are vegetarians, and insist on mentioning this in every second sentence  ("Oh gosh no, I can't have houmous, I'm vegetarian of course.  Except I do eat chicken and fish, but do you know, I've been totally veggie for 10 years now."). 

The only problem with all this great worthiness, is that actually, after talking to them for approximiately  23 seconds, it becomes glaring apparent that a) they are pretentious twats, and b) they are actually so fucking right wing that they make Paul Dacre appear liberal and pleasant.  They despise and loath pretty much anyone and anything that isn't exactly the same as them, and think that poor people would feel so much better if they just switched to organic produce. 

So, Pseudo Lefty Mum swanned in and plumped herself down on the floor next to me (cooler to sit on the floor, more down with the kids.  I couldn't have sat on the floor even if I'd wanted to, due to the stupid shoes).  She lost no time and launched straight in.

"Cassandra, I'm glad you're here, I wanted to talk to you about porn."  (I choked on my Pimms)  "Have you watched 'Tyger Does Porn'?  Well, you must, you must watch it with Saffy and then you must have a good chat about it, it's very important!  Why?  Well, she needs to know about these things.  I don't think she does know about it Cassandra, I don't care what you've read on her phone when she's in the bath, it's absolutely vital you watch this together and then discuss it, I insist!  Imogen and I had the most super chat about it, and she's absolutely promised she won't have a Brazilian or try anal unless she really wants to do it.  I feel so much better about things now.  Yes I know Imogen's only 9, but there's no point in being embarrassed about these things.  No, I can't possibly have any guacamole, have you forgotten I'm vegetarian?  Except for chicken and fish of course.  Anyway, so glad we've had this chat, do you know, there was some sort of Eastern European chap selling the Big Issue outside Waitrose yesterday, it really shouldn't be allowed."

Faced with Pseudo Lefty Mum for the night, the only answer seemed to be to get Pimmsed to the max, and I set about this challenge with gusto.  Unfortunately the realisation I had reached the max came too late, when some time later when I grabbed PLM's glass off her and set off in search of the Dispenser of Love.  PLM was still sprawled on the floor and alas the Pimms and the Shoes of Doom conspired together to cause me to trip over PLM and land flat on my back, spraining my ankle in the process.

Maddy, like a true, caring best friend, shoved a bag of ice at me and added an extra shot of gin to my Pimms.  Shortly after that, Crazyeyes, our friendly local taxi driver arrived to ferry me home.  We'll gloss over the bollocks I babbled at Crazyeyes, mainly because I can't entirely remember, and I fell in the door about ten minutes before Saffy, who'd been at a party with the posh school people.

She came home in a state of high indignation, declaring she had been looking after pissed people all night, as some of the boys thought it would be a good idea to bring copious quantities of cheap booze to the party.  Eventually, she noticed I was squinting at her somewhat owlishly and paused in her tirade, so I seized my chance

"Darling, do you wanna watcha programme with Mummy, with that boy off Outnumbered, about porn and then talk aboudit with Mummy, schweetie?  Yesh?  Darling schweetie, schweetie darling?  Hic."

"Oh for fucks sake, you're pissed too, aren't you?"

"Only a ver little bit."

"Well I'm going to bed, and I'm taking the dog with me, don't argue Mother."