Well, I’ve arrived. My new house is very nice. I even have a dishwasher! It’s this amazing contraption that actually washes your dishes for you! Isn’t that incredible? The other day, watching TV, I saw an ad for dishwasher tablets. “Hey!” I said. “This ad applies to me! God, I really feel like I’ve made it now. I’m in a whole different consumer demographic.”
“You should write in and tell them,” said SiC.
“I intend to. I’m going to tell them that if they want me to buy their product, they’d better start putting more naked footballers in their adverts.”
Country life so far is…quiet. In a good way. The neighbours have all introduced themselves and have since steered clear. I don’t know if this is simply polite reticence or active avoidance and I really don’t care: the less conversation I have to make over my garden fence the better.
One of the neighbours really deserves a mention, though. She knocked on the door the day after we arrived. SiC made conversation with her for a few minutes until I came downstairs. “Oh, hello,” she said in the most posh accent I’ve ever heard in real life. “I’m Vanessa. My husband and I live in the Manor House just down the road. I hear you’re on the lookout for a driving instructor. [Argh. Yes.] I’ve got the number of a wonderful teacher. He’s teaching my daughter right now – well, she hasn’t quite passed her test, but she’s in boarding school so she doesn’t get many opportunities to practice. You know how it is. [Er, not really.] We’re putting on a play in our garden in a few weeks. [You are shitting me.] We’ll be sending round invitations. I think most of the town will turn out. It’s a very friendly town. I’ve only been here six years, but I think I know just about everyone. I’m the church warden as well. [Is that like a fire warden? Will you run around and warn everyone if a church service breaks out?] So if you have any questions about anything you can come ask me. As I said, we’re just over in the Manor House. [So you keep mentioning. Must be new money.] Do give us a call if you need anything at all.” And then she left, presumably to go play polo or order her servants to make cucumber sandwiches or whatever it is rich people do. Christ. I didn’t think people like that actually existed. I thought the BBC made them up for the benefit of the gullible American public.
We’ve been nesting like mad: so far we’ve planted tomatoes, peppers, coriander, parsley, courgettes, dill, garlic, onions, strawberries and sunflowers; we’ve spent a modest fortune buying antique furniture on eBay; and I’m already becoming a Nazi about SiC leaving his towels lying around as they don’t match the bathroom colour scheme. I must have new towels. See, under my brash party girl exterior lurks an anal retentive yuppie housewife. Next thing you know I’ll be waxing the floor in a twin set.