“Stop the madness” I shouted as I fought to be heard over the high-pitched voices of my sister, my best friend Carla and my mum.
I’d returned home from a lovely afternoon with my Grandad, to find them all in heated discussion in my parents’ kitchen and unsurprisingly, I was as usual the main feature. Carla had again rushed round to Dyson Mansions, aka my parent’s house, to announce that Serial Shagger Simon was now shacked up with my pregnant former best friend in the house which we had bought together. “Can’t believe, you’re letting him get away with it”. My sister reproached me as my mum once again boiled the kettle for another round of teas. Frankly, if ever the end of the world was announced my mother would spend the last ten minutes of her life brewing tea.
Even Carla was adding her ten pence worth “so let me understand this cupcake. You have been financing Serial Shagger’s lifestyle in a 3 bedroomed semi with Miss “impregnated by an alien”, whilst you have been sleeping on a rollaway bed in your parents spare room?” realising what she’d said, she added “sorry Mrs D” in my mother’s direction “ it is a very nice spare room but at the end of the day it is not the same as having your own place. Honesty, Dall, if you were any more stupid, you’d have to be watered twice a day”!
My sister added “And I have had to endure hours of shopping channel television in order that you could furnish that semi. I even spent three hours of my life, which I won’t be getting back anytime soon, selecting kitchens in Ikea with you. And now, Sharon future mother of the golden child is playing housewife with your kitchen utensils and you don’t seem to be bothered. Now I know you’re adopted because there is no history of insanity in this family”.
“Well thank you former family member and may I just ask whether they ever shut up on your planet”? I retorted in the way only sisters can.
“Dall, why don’t you just give your money to a religious cult because at least you’d know it was going to a good cause” Carla laughed.
I thanked them all for their concern and agreed that it wasn’t my finest moment but in the event that I ever found myself in that situation again, I would remember to pack the tea towels before fleeing. With as much dignity as I could muster, I turned and slammed the kitchen door behind me.
My Dad, who had been lingering in the hall pretending to consult the phone book, whispered as I stormed out of the kitchen “Now lass, don’t go getting yourself upset. I’ve made an appointment for you to see a solicitor on Monday; very thorough, did the conveyancing on your sister’s house. I think it’s time that Simon learned that my daughter’s nobody’s fool”. With that he kissed the top of my head and patted my hand. “Tell your mother I’m off to the allotment “.
I realised that I too needed to seek sanctuary sooner rather than later and I knew where there was a Turkish oasis of calm waiting for me.