Date Sunday 29 January Time 5.45pm
My thoughts and reflections:
I am so annoyed with Astrid. Yesterday, she made me come back early from drinks with my old Bloomsbury colleagues by sending pathetic needy text messages (so not Astrid’s usual style) saying she was feeling a bit lonely and could I join her for supper and spend some sister time with her because she didn’t want to be on her own?
Please, please? I was meant to be out all night with Gabriella and Suzanne, but this neediness from Astrid was so out of character that I felt a rush of protective concern and left early.
I did feel bad about bailing, but not that guilty, because Gabriella and Suzanna were wittering on about their honeymoon at length, and if I’d stayed they would probably have made me sit and look at photos.
Besides, they understood that I owed Astrid big time for allowing me to stay at hers, and let me off the hook.
In fact, Gabriella even said I was ‘such a good sister’ which made me walk a little taller.
No one has ever called me a good sister before.
So I put myself out for Astrid because I am a ‘good sister’, and bought a bottle of Lambrini on the way home and a bag of Haribo (a lot of which I ate on the tube, but it was nervous eating because I was worried about Astrid), and came into the kitchen singing to cheer her up, and was she on her own?
No she bloody wasn’t. Aziz had obviously gone to a huge effort to make a lovely meal and the table was set for two, and there was soft lighting and romantic music, and Aziz looked at me in what can only be described as dismay, and said, ‘Alice… I thought you were out for the night?’
‘I was,’ I said, giving Astrid a pointed look.
She completely ignored my look. ‘Well, the important thing is you’re here now and you look starving. Join us.’
‘No, you’re clearly having a meal for two.’
‘No, we’re not.’ Astrid grabbed my arm and forced me to sit down.
‘Yes, you are. I’m going to leave you two to it.’
‘Sit down,’ said Astrid. ‘Please?’ And she genuinely looked slightly desperate.
And then Aziz, because he’s the nicest human ever, went and got me a plate and smiled at me. ‘Join us, Alice.’
For once, I didn’t enjoy Aziz’s cooking: it was just plain sad, sitting there with the two of them, making conversation, and not talking about what really needed to be talked about.
I spoke to Arrie this afternoon and she said that it was dummy-gate all over again and that I wasn’t the only spoilt one and that frankly, Astrid was acting up.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Astrid was horrific when you were born,’ Arrie told me. ‘Mum and Dad seriously thought about having her board in Switzerland.’
‘Can you send a toddler to a foreign country?’
‘She was nearly three. Old enough to know better; old enough to board.
Mum and Dad weren’t always the incompetent soft-touch parents you’re used to, Alice. When I was little, they were much tougher. Why do you think Astrid and I have the mettle we do?’
‘So what was dummy-gate?’
‘She wanted a dummy when you had one and Mum and Dad refused. So Astrid started protest-shitting behind the sofa.’
‘What? Why would you share that with me?’
‘The point is,’ continued Arrie, ‘eventually Mum and Dad caved and bought her a dummy. Normal toileting resumed.’
‘Not sure this is the same,’ I said, trying to push away the mental images.
‘It’s absolutely the same,’ scoffed Arrie. ‘Poor Aziz.’
I suppose that was one thing we agreed on.
Poor Aziz.
I am grateful for:
Being single.
Being a babe in arms whilst Astrid was a psycho protest shitter – thank the Universe I wasn’t crawling.