Sunday, 11 April 2010

Panic on the Streets of Penshurst

I'm doing something highly illegal. I am sitting at the computer in the morning. I got down here first. I've got some washing on. I've got my coffee and I've got rights I 'ave. I've also now got 4 outraged monkeys demanding things that require movement of bottom. I've pinging well earned this moment. I found the living room floor yesterday. I bought a Kellogg's Variety Pack the day before and they know where the fridge is and the contents of the dishwasher. MY turn. Is this unreasonable? When I'm still unconscious under the duvet they manage perfectly well - it's just 'cos I'm here they've lost the ability to do things for themselves. Or maybe they realise that I might just SEE how they fend for themselves. Maybe this is the truth of it. Either way - slap off little mind-snatchers. Mummy wants some head-space.

Mummy and head-space in the same sentence...... Head case perhaps. Space in between the ears very likely. Why does child production melt your brains? What is the evolutionary purpose of this? Someone once told me she thought the reason for pregnancy and new motherhood forgetfulness was to ensure that all peripheral thought was diminished to ensure you concentrated on the truly important job of keeping that baby alive. I could get my head round that. But I want my brain back now. Such as it was. Maybe always slightly faulty but it got me from A to B , mostly. Now ............... I just want to see a thought through. Or think a thought through. I want to get to B. Actually I would like to find A.

Yesterday, for example, I was driving off to pick up Minx from her chum's house. On Automatic Pilot. Unfortunately Automatic pilot malfunctioned and took me somewhere else entirely. 'Real' head had to suddenly take over and the expected 35 minute journey became a magical mystery tour through the chocolate box rolling hills of Kent for almost an hour. Having said that, I kind of enjoyed it. Nice day, no clock to watch particularly. What's the big deal...... but I do things like that when I AM supposed to be somewhere specific. Alot.

My head was so full of ponderings. Tidal channels of consciousness - semi-consiouness - whatever. I was wondering why humans are so weird. Maybe it was the sun - finally the SUN! Maybe it was knowing I had found the living room floor, hoovered and bolted out the door so that it would still be there when we got home. Maybe it was wondering why Mr Golf pants has seemed to be in such a grump since last Wednesday. Maybe I was just glad to be out the house (despite having been glad it was supposed to be my day IN the house). Maybe I'm just as grumpy as Mr Golf Pants. Maybe I should have taken my vitamins. But they are just so high up, and in a box, and I just can't be bothered to reach. I think this is a sure sign I need to take my vitamins............

All this started with my persistent panic about the election. Ever rampaging circles of anger, doubt, nihilism, despondency, responsibility, rage, panic etc etc..... I just CANNOT vote Tory I really can't....... David Slimeball Cameron, leaving a trail of fetid skank behind him all the way. But I HAVE to get rid of Labour - single handed I feel. Every vote counts. I MUST make my Labour-vanquishing vote really count. Can't just vote for a smaller party - I HAVE to make my vote COUNT! And I am going mental. I spent all my younger years banging tables about the rancid Tories - naively thinking Labour would save us all. And they simply betrayed me. THEY MUST BE DESTROYED! As they have destroyed my faith in government in general. As they have destroyed human faith in humans in general. With their ridiculously controlling attitudes - they have not empowered people to take responsibilty for themselves and to bring up their children with confidence - passing on such an ability for THEM to take responsibility for themselves. They have bred a society of sneaks and box-tickers. No risks. Fear of individuality. Super litigious. Strait-jacketed. Curtain-twitching. Morally cannibalistic. Unable to think freely or to step on the cracks. And this vice-like squeezing of individuality has funnily enough produced many drop-outs - or pop-outs - such as us Home Educators. More and more of us daring to stick two fingers up at their suffocating hypocrisy. Those double-dealing money-grabbing grubby sociopathic runts in suits. They try to convince the rest of the ostriches that we are the enemy. That we are cheating, beating, eating our children. Denying them the opportunities to JOIN THEM. BE LIKE THEM. BE THEM. I don't want my children to have anything to do with this type of society. My children ARE ALREADY part of 'society' but not THEIR type. They are already people - already 'out there' daring to BE. They don't have to be channelled and moulded until they're 16 and then pushed off to higher education for another couple of years to polish them up, 'cos it looks good in the statistics, until they're 'ready' to fit in. They do not need to 'know their place'. They will take their place, make their place, live the life of their own making - taking responsibility for themselves.

Oh god.

Maybe if they can flap off and get their own breakfast they will.

So what's my choice here? Suffocation with Labour or Eton Mess with Tories?

The day before I had seen a hearse pull up outside someone's house. I was OK with that. Always a shame but that's the swings and roundabouts etc. And then I saw the family on their front doorstep and my eyes immediately prickled into hot little tears..... Silly old slapper. Still ridiculously emotional - another side-effect of blinking child popping. And then yesterday, in the middle of my election-paralysis, I saw a wedding car. Instant reactions are funny. I had been joking with a friend the day before about this when we'd been heading down to the fish and chip shop after our fossil hunting expedition, leaving small boys on the beach 'helping' to set up the fishing rods with her husband, and she squeaked with glee first at an open-top car and then at a cement mixer - as a natural reaction to usually being with children. I always have an urge to wave at fire engines myself with or without children. But when I saw the wedding car I just wanted to shout 'You idiots! You've spunked loads of money on this day. So have all your friends and family, half of whom will have black eyes by the end of this evening and you will never speak to them again and you'll be divorced within three years and all you'll have to show for it is some nasty photographs of people who have since died looking at their shiny worst.' It was at this point, as I was wondering if I had said this out loud, when I realised that I was barrelling along in the wrong direction.

And then I started wondering why humans get married. Why has it become such a huge money-making circus? Why do funerals cost so much? What's with all our rituals? What's with all this religion lark? Why do people still do all this stuff when they can read and watch telly and travel about and SEE and HEAR about alternatives. We're not bound by our superiors or strung up for not going to church. I ordered a book about world religions for the kids to get this stuff from ('cos they don't get it from me too much - just as well really), and I was flicking through it, what nice colours..... aren't the flowers pretty.... why do they do that then?...... oh what's the squelching point of any of it?! What a load of sewage!!! No wonder the world is totally screwed up. I put the book away and haven't suggested a perusal since. I just don't get it. And this may sound really weirdly sexist and wrong but I kind of 'get' girls in a nice dress, nice hair, nice flowers etc but what do the boys get out of getting married? And how come so many of us still do this? And why, if they want to do this, do they have such overblown mental 'stag' and 'hen' nights/weeks/exotic adventures these days? I'm just an old grump who needs her vitamins. But I don't understand humans at all. And with all these 'big' questions - why do politicians waste so much time on such stupid details? We don't need all this legal restriction - we can obviously mess up our lives perfectly well for ourselves and are much the better for it. We just have to accept responsibility for our own flap-ups. It's nobody's fault but our own.

Sorry 'bout all this. It just kind of came out. I'm going to go and clean up the monsters' breakfast puddles now. And find those vitamins.


  1. i cannot vote tory either. i defy my hand to do it. either hand, right or left. tories protect a minority of interests. yet labour has shown what it is to flatten us all with a centralised system of 'fairness'. there we are all treated equally as slaves to state interest.

    round here it's been labour for years, so the candidates don't even bother calling. i shall probably vote as tactically as i can to reduce their majority.

    and we got married for £25 dahn the registry office and no guests apart from two mothers and a brother.

  2. Urghh...Tory. But I'm wondering what the alternative is, if it's not Labour. Bummer. Can't even think about it cos it's doing my head in.

    We didn't bother to get married. I figure if 3 kids wasn't enough to ensure I stayed tied the kitchen sink, then an expensive piece of paper and a frilly dress wasn't gonna do any better.

    And yeah. I often drive on autopilot. There have been times when I'm driving and I have to ask the kids where it is we're s'posed to be going (as I go round the roundabout for the 3rd time). Sadly I never end up anywhere exciting when I'm on auto...usually Tescos carpark.

    It's all in the focus (of which I appear to have none).

    But at least I'm feeling smug now that my kids will finally let me go for a pee ALONE.

  3. Well the eldest is 11 now, so it's well overdue.

    Though why is it that my kids only ever need the loo when I'm sat on it. There I am, just getting the seat warmed up when I hear 'muuuuuuuuummy!' at the door.

  4. God, have been struggling with this voting thing since the last election. Have decided to just write 'They're all bastards' on the ballot paper and leave it at that. That'll smash the state, eh?

  5. Where's that man with the tank? Does anyone remember him? I'm sure he came from Croydon - parked it outside his semi - and set off for Parliament when he got fed up.

    I wanna tank.

  6. By the way the tank would be for storming the Houses of Argy Barliament - not for the brats at the toilet door. Although........

    Hmmmmmn ... actually I think the children ARE tanks. Our toilet door doesn't lock. Not any more anyway. Either that or they're training to be in the Fire Brigade. All windows now held together with packing tape.