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Thursday, 26 April 2007

Big Boys

On Monday morning at the crack of dawn, James crunched down our gravel drive on his way to Heathrow Airport for another business meeting in Japan. The darling munchkins were inconsolable when they awoke and realised daddy was gone yet again. They adore their sweet gentle father so.

Poor James, I know how much he loves being here with them. At the moment he enjoys playing with Max on that dreadful Wii games console thingy for hours on end. Apparently the boys have just found a special portal and moved up to a whole new level on the "Marvel Ultimate Alliance" game. Max can't play it by himself, he is like a lost lamb without his papa. The tot has been spending his evenings on the bottom stair in the hall, looking so glum.

Straight from Japan, James will be travelling on to Barbados for the Cricket World Cup, he is probably in the air right now. These corporate jollies are a necessary evil he tells me with large doleful eyes, as unavoidable as the far flung business meetings, necessary networking opportunities. He doesn't like to go and leave us all behind...

I am not a fool.

I know my man too well, he went to Winchester far too young. I am often invited along to join him on his little sports trips abroad, and I almost never go because they always seem turn into opportunities for random acts of nudity. My usually restrained and composed gentle man, turns into a sports yob when abroad.

James attends Cowes week annually with several of his ex public school chums for a festival of generalised bottom baring, so it's really not for me. When surrounded by the old school tie chums, you can safely assume that at least one chap will be travelling home sans eyebrows.

Indeed, my hen party consisted of a civilised day at prestigous Elemis day spa, followed by dinner at Caprice. James took his chums to Monaco for a weekend at a Grand Prix, I remember at the time being terribly impressed by their sophistication. The trip resulted in the entire party of eight being cautioned by the police. I believe on that occasion they were all wearing dresses, James had his legs waxed and his best man Geoff had been used as a toast rack and could not sit down for a month. How very tasteless and embarrassing.

It really is for the best that James gets this need to be at one with nature (or to behave like a buffoon) out of his system, as far away from my impressionable children as possible. It is as though he turns into some kind of warewolf suffering from irresistible urges when his old school chums and a sports fixture are on the cards.

I just brought diddums his supper on the stairs. Our daddy will be back with us soon, the daddy we love I reassure Max...

9 comments:

Anonymous said...

Dulwich Mum... My household is in the same situation... the route was via Germany but ends, as well, in the Cricket World Cup, but here it is me that is seating in the bottom step tonight!... and because of that tomorrow, I shall be compensating myself in Valencia for some sea, sun and a sport event that i actually understand... I get Barbados... I just can't get my head around Cricket!!! have a good weekend ContinentalWife

Drunk Mummy said...

Dear Dulwich Mum, my eldest boy has been saying "I want a Wii" for so long now, that I thought he had a bladder infection. Bless you for showing me how ignorant I have been all this time.

dulwichmum said...

Sweet Contintental Wife,

Good for you! I am afraid I must wait at home for the husband I love to return. I cannot bear to watch him bare if you see what I mean! He turns into a complete beer monster.

Darling Drunk Mummy,

I thought the same thing until James brought it home in a box. I had been boiling out jam jars to enable me to bring samples to the GP - for Max...

DM

rilly super said...

dulwichmum, we may not fully understand our mens' need to put on a dress, get blind drunk, bare their arse, and generally act like a Newcastle hen night but we must accept that a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. One day your dear Max will have to follow in your husband's footsteps, even if those footsteps were made in six inch heels, plastic breasts and a curly blonde wig. When that day comes you will, despite all your present understandable apprehension proudly state 'That's my boy!'

Nunhead Mum of One said...

Dear heart - there was some nudity involved during your hen party, do you not remember? Haha, such japes!

dulwichmum said...

Dear Rilly,

You know I believe you could be right!

Dear Nunheadmumofone,

We sat at the next table to Joan Collins and Michael Winner at Caprice - that was more than enough excitement for me... I remember Joan ordered an undressed green salad for her main course - is that the nudity to which you refer?

I remember remarking to my chums that her figure came at far too high a price, before I ordered baked Alaska which arrived on fire for pudding. Pure Heaven!

Anonymous said...

Ha ha Dulwich mum - I've found you! Guess who?!

debio said...

My former public schoolboy husband presents a raft of contradictions. He will belch freely (at home) but become anal should he spot someone holding their cutlery incorrectly. He will fart at will and rant about the person who asks for the bathroom or toilet instead of the lavatory.
I really wonder sometimes about these childhood institutions.

dulwichmum said...

Dear Anonymous,

Yes, I was here all along! Welcome.

Dear Debio,

I know - it is the contradictions that make me laugh. My husband describes our courtship as though it was a cross between The Taming of the Shrew and Pygmalion, and yet he is happy to belch to music when out with chums!