So we're arriving at the 'reading' of the will and most of my missus' family is here; the greatest bunch of money grabbing so and so's you're ever likely to meet, all gathered in one room drinking cheap champagne and talking the small type of talk that makes your ears fill up with wax really quickly! A person walks over carrying a tray of drinks and nibbles. As I grab two of the 'better' champagnes on offer, my missus walks into the room wearing a very nice yellow T-shirt sporting a Katsushika Hokusai print on the back of the 'Great wave', some really nice blue baggies and, of course, the black formal flip flops. The shades were of the deepest blue mirrored finish I have ever seen, and I was really proud of her. She was coolio! Even the smallest small talking stopped, they looked!

I walked over, picked her up on my arm and gave her a glass of the 'better' champagne. The talk murmured back into the background! They were all wearing black as a mark of respect. I hate the minor hypocracy of these people wearing black 'out of respect' as they never respected this person in life, when she was alive, when this person needed to be loved and cared for, not stuck in a nursing home counting the days, not having these people visit.

To show her the newest member of the family I took my daughter, Ash, to see her as soon as she came out of hospital. I never saw these people visiting her. The nurses at the home said 'you're about the only ones that come now to see her'. So, looking around, I only know one face - 'The Trout' - and bu$$er it I made eye contact!
'So glad you could make it and where are my daughter and granddaughter then?!' she says, faking a look around the room.
'You know exactly where she is. Also she in no mood to be mucked around. Pi$$ her off and you pi$$ me off, too, as I have to go home with her!' I shoot this across her bows but it's fallen short and the fun begins in earnest!

A small tinkling sound is heard from one corner of the room.
'Will everyone please make their way to the conference room, situated through the French doors on your left, thank you.' The voice fades away and an air of anticipation arrives and departs again before it really has a chance to develop into a funk.
'Shall we go in?' I enquire to the missus.
'Just how do you see out of these bloody stupid glasses?' she says as we make our way to the French doors and into the conference room to find our seats. As yet no one has spoke to us; only the waiters and 'The Trout' who seems to have a close attending male person.
'Who's that?' My missus points at the male person with her thumb.
'How the hell should I know and I think he's in for a bit of a surprise!' I say.
'Why?' says my missus.
'Well, she's got her girdle on and that wiggle is loaded, with the safety off.' I say.
My missus lifts her shades to look at her mother.
'I think you're right, poor s*d. Now do you know why I don't like wearing them?' she says.
'What?' I say.
'Girdles!' comes the reply.
'Cus it makes your bum look big?' I say.
'Please take your seats quickly now.' says a voice.
'I'll tell you later on.' she says as we take our seats and the French doors shut.

'It's my sad duty to welcome you here to this reading.' a sober baritone voice says somewhere from the front. I was beginning to drop off already, as the room was warm and quiet, with this monotonous tone coming from the front of the room. A quick dig in the ribs with her elbow from my missus wakes me up with a start.
'There's something for our family in it. We're mentioned!' she says. I think 'woohoo' but don't show it instead saying
'Well that's nice of her, isn't it!'.
'Well it was unexpected!' she says back!
'Ok, so what have we got in this will then?' I say expecting something with a small but highly sentimental value.
'Don't know. We're to go into the other room at the end of the reading and they're going to tell us in private.' she says in a really quiet tone.
'Right then!' I return to my semiconscious state with my daughter on my lap!

An hour passes and then another. We adjourn for the afternoon tea. As we're all filing out of the conference room someone comes over to us and starts talking to us; the first person to do so other than 'The Trout'. I take no notice as she has that look on her face.
'So I see you went for the 'casual' look then! I expected that now you live with HIM!' she says. She flicks her eyes at me and then back to our daughter and carries on; 'Is that the girl then? She doesn't look much like HIM.' She again flicks her eyes back onto me. I know that trouble is brewing up and we both give her a hard stare!
'Just shut up you old cow!' says my missus. Now the room has gone really quiet and everyone is looking at us. It's a strange feeling this, like having a small pimple on your bottom; nothing in the grand scheme of things but bloody painful to sit on! And she is still not finished with us.
'You can't even dress for the occasion, can you? Living with HIM has turned you into a CHT (Council House Tenant) dressing like a 10 year old, and at your age, too.' she says and gently poking my missus with a boney finger then says 'You don't even wear foundations!'
'Let's go' says my missus.
'Ok, if you want to go we'll go' I say and we turn to find the door blocked by a large man.
'If you leave now none of these people mentioned in the will can have their inheritances. All or nothing, I afraid. It's written into the will.' says this bloke.

So we're to stay and it looks like for the night, too, as it's taking much longer than expected. The small talk is rattling on in the background now the little tiff has stopped and I look at my missus who's still angry.
'I wish I dressed up for this.' says my missus.
'You look really good.' I say trying to give encouragement but we both know that it's ok for me to dress like that as it's expected of me, but for my missus, not good!

'Mrs J Russell.' A baritone voice booms out into the room. It's our turn to go in and find out what my missus has inherited. The door shuts behind us and we're ushered to the chairs in front of the bloke who stopped us from leaving.
'You'll be pleased. It's quite a substantial inheritance and I think you may need some financial advice so we have provided an accountant if you wish to see her later.'
So the next hour passes being informed of what's what! There is some for me and also a trust fund for my daughter, too. It was something I didn't expect but, like my missus said 'She must have wanted you to have it, otherwise.' which is quite true.
'Just sign here and here and here and that's it.'
We get up to leave and the door is opened for us. We're now in the other room which is even more crowed as the rest of the families have turned up. Again, as usual, it goes quiet and they all look at us but, due to what we now know, these people are going to be a little miffed when they find out what we know! Also my missus seems to be more confident, too. We walk over to the table where the really good champagne is hiding, pick out a nice bottle of the vintage Krug Rose (£495.00 a bottle) and open it. The room goes really quiet again. We look at each other and, in unison, shout 'YES' and start to drink the shampoo. Then I grab my missus around the waist and we start to dance - well smooch really.
'Ahh, the feel of a loose woman. The type with no foundations on, you just can't beat i.t' I say as we fox trot past the boney-fingered old cow.
'Typical!' she spits to 'The Trout's' bloke!

'So what did you get then?' A strange new voice erupts in my right ear!
'Not going to tell you!' I say and my missus sniggers. This new person looked a bit put out by the bluntness of my response.
'Freddy, meet Jack and Ash.' says my missus closely followed by 'Have a drink of the pink shampoo. It's really nice and really much better than the others.'
'That's a really great T-shirt and I wish I had to guts to wear something like that, but it's 'mummy' - she's got such a bad temper!' says Freddy.
'F**K mummy!' says my missus loud enough for 'mummy' to hear and then 'Then what's she doing to do to you? Cut you out of her inheritance?'
'Well, yes, actually. She said that "if I ever decided to make a fool of myself I would be written out!" so, as I can't do to much - bad at school, you know - either the church or the army or to sort of stay at home on the estate! And it is rather nice shampoo!' he says.
At this point I think the 'Krug' is getting the better of my missus.
'Here, hold her.' she says and promptly plonks Ash into Freddy's arms and strides off to have a chat with 'mummy' over Freddy plight. This is all going to take place in a room of 'mummy's' and also in a loud state of being squiffy! Ahh, what are family get-to-gethers for, if not for the informal banter!

She stops around 6 inches (and for all those in the metric universe 150mm) from 'mummy'. The 'Trout' sees what is happening and grabs two of the men she is talking to. I could see this getting out of hand very quickly.
'Freddy, just stay here with Ash and I'll be right back!' I say.
'Ok, Jack!' he replies. My missus starts off with a resounding shot of;
'Just who do you think you are, stopping Fred having a life, you old, wizened F**K!'
Not bad for an opening salvo I think but it's 'not the place or the time' so stopping her becomes the mission. I arrive in time with the 'Trout¹'.
'Just shut up, you're drunk!' says the 'Trout' to my missus then she rounds on me.
'Why did you let her wear those clothes and not a suit?!'
'Because she wanted to wear something different and not look like a total penguin, like you lot.' I say. The two cousins move towards my missus who is, at this point, waving a finger under the nose of the wizened old cow. I move in between the cousins and my missus and tell my missus to stop whatever she is doing because it's lowering us to their level and it's also such terribly bad form to do so. She stops - but not the cousins!

'Chuck them out of this room. Chuck them right out onto the street and be done with it' says the wizened old cow.
'Try it!' says my missus as she looks at the cousins who, by now, have stopped in their tracks. I am now getting a bit wound up myself when the 'Trout' jumps in and starts to talk to the old cow. Of course it is my entire fault being a man and leading her daughter astray, not to mention the clothes - which I still think look good on my missus but, like most women, they look good in any thing really. So I am going to be the scapegoat for today! I don't mind. Then it kicks off again. The 'Trout' just has to say something, something that isn't called for, something that doesn't need to be said, but it is!
'A woman of your age' is the start of it and then 'It's really not VERY feminine' was another upon which my missus turns on her heels and stomps out to the front door grabbing Ash on the way - leaving me in the room by myself with the family looking at me as if I have some sort of disease. I smile a hollow smile and briskly walk to the door and outside to look for my missus and daughter. They are in the park, just sitting on the bench looking into the distance. I sit down next to her. She holds my hand.

For the next hour we say nothing to each other; glad we're together, just holding hands. Like a bolt out of the blue she says
'Not a bad day, eh!'
'What?' I say.
'Not a bad day.' she says again with a twinkle in her voice.
'Ok!' I say. 'So how is it a good day then?'
'We have a little nest egg, our daughter has a little nest egg, we're healthy and I don't have to see my mother for around 6 months. Not a bad day, then!' she says.
'So this was planned, then?' I say.
'Of course. Well, not the nest eggs but the rest of it was sort of planned.' she says. 'That's why I wore these clothes.'
'I thought you liked these clothes, you chose them.' I am mystified at this point 'Ok then, why?' I say.
'I like these clothes but they're not me. They're your style and you can carry them off because you have been wearing them for most of your adult life so you're comfy with them on. But they're not for me. I like dressing in clothes with a shape, not androgynous shapes, but it was the final straw when my MOTHER bought me all that stuff. I needed a change, wanted a change and I thought I'd try a change. Can we go home? I'm hungry and so's Ash and we haven't seen the dogs (GOD BLESS'UM) yet either!

We leave for a burger and chips!

Rev Jack

The Rev Jacks Diary Archive

The Rev Jack Russell

25.11.04 Front Page

Back Issue Page