Honestly, all this sex we’ve been having. My wrists are so weak I can hardly type.
So, I promised to bring you up to speed with the General Smith scandal. Remember I had that bag of charred papers shoved in my garage? A few days later I get a knock at the door and it’s the Military Police (this time they haven’t come to see Sienna) they’ve come to take ‘the evidence’ away. One of the detectives is has a thin paisley tie and looks like DCI Meadows out of ‘The Bill’, (who I, incidentally, met in my 20s and asked me out for a drink in his native Brentford. He had cherry red Saab convertible and was very proud it.) The other is skinny, anaemic, with haunted eyes like Mackenzie Crook. He leans forward to look into the house and the stench of stale fags hits me.
I call Si to make sure I am supposed to hand over ‘the swag’, he tells me they are working for him. He’s coordinated the whole operation! So I park the kids in front of Mr Tumble and open the garage door, just as Fiona Smith drives into the Close at 90mph. She gets out of the car and wants to know what’s going on so I tell her the council are taking away a dead fox I found on the road and, of course, she doesn’t believe me because of how they are dressed but it’s all I could think of. The detectives shove the bin bag in the boot of their Ford and drive off. “There’s a distinct smell of burning,” says Fiona, nose in the air.
“I know,” I say, “I’m not proud of it but I tried to burn the fox.”
She shakes her head and marches back to her house. “Bloody neighbours!”
And this is the really annoying part, two days later we are up in Wiltshire at my parents’, when the Military Police and the Met Police do a 5am dawn raid, kicking the Smiths’ door down, arresting Fiona and General Jeremy, confiscating their phones, laptops, computers and removing box upon box of files and paperwork AND I MISSED IT. Mandy, Buck, Dr Nick and Dr Anna saw the whole thing because the cops made sure the whole neighbourhood was alerted by sounding their sirens as they entered The Patch. Mandy said she saw the ‘suspects’ handcuffed, bundled into two police cars and blue lighted off for questioning. AND I BLOODY MISSED IT.
And the latest is that they think she’s working for THE RUSSIANS and has been informing Moscow of British military ops for years. Fiona, is, basically a Red Sparrow! (But an old minging one compared to Jennifer Lawrence) Which explains the kinky sex and dominating Jeremy. And all the while she’s been crusading about nursery school teachers, broken antique thrones, walls, wendy houses, chalk marks and parking permits – now that’s what I call deep cover.
They are both denying the charges but Si says the evidence is overwhelming. So it’s all been a bit of a change from the habitual pondering over green shitty nappies (teething or bacterial infection?), countless episodes of Topsy and Tim and their bloody mother grinning like a goon and one of Sienna’s friends puking all over the Franco Manca pizzas at a recent playdate. We have had a taste of espionage. Oh, and Humphery Hurtwood has apparently skipped off to South America with his big wodge of wonga (and big hands) so I think that brings us about up to date.
Tomorrow I’m off glass blowing in Totnes for my Country Matters challenge and I’m taking Mandy as the photographer. We can’t wait.
I’m off to ice my wrists now (and other bits). Honestly, I’m glad the holidays are over and Simon’s back to work and we can go back to a normal sex-starved marriage again. This Red Sparrow is going back to being a boring House Sparrow. Oh, nice touch, Vita has just punched her milk across the kitchen. Did I tell you we’ve taken to calling her Grant because of her outbursts of violence and her first word: MUM – which she shouts like Grant Mitchell at the top of her baby lungs. MUM?! Now she’s throwing cucumber at me. Life is beginning to feel back on an even keel.