Mrs. Fry's Diary (21 page)

I was about to turn over and try to get back to sleep for the eighth time when I heard a strange noise drifting through the window. At first I assumed it was just another car alarm but then I realised it was more melodic. Well, slightly more melodic. I reached across and opened the window to see a small group of hooded youths standing on the doorstep with their hands in their pockets, swaying back and forth. I watched them blearily for a little while before eventually I realised what they were. At once, I felt my heart lift and a broad smile cross my face. Carol singers!

I leaned out of the window and shouted down.

'You, boy, what's today?'

The tallest of the three frowned and looked at his digital watch.

'Today?' he cried. 'Why, it's the third of December.'

'Oh, good!' I shouted back. 'Then I haven't missed it. Now why don't you all toddle off and come back nearer Christmas Day. And get a bit more practice in while you're at it.'

I shut the window and jumped out of bed with a huge smile on my face. A Christmas miracle!

4 Sunday

I do love this time of year! There's nothing quite like Christmas to help you push your worries to one side and focus on a whole new load. There's the cards to write, the presents to buy and the Spam to baste. So much to do! I'll start with brushing these pieces of paper under the carpet.

5 Monday

Before I do anything else, I'd better write the traditional Fry round-robin Christmas letter. I know how desperate everyone must be to know what we've been up to this year.

Dear All,

A very warm and yuletidy festive period to you all. We in the Fry household hope this finds you hale and hearty. I have so much to tell you, dears. Goodness, what a year it has been!

To begin with, the biggest news is that Stephen and I are soon to be grandparents. I can imagine what you're thinking - how is that possible, at our tender ages? - but it's true! Our very own little Viennetta isn't quite so little at the moment. In just a few weeks she'll be giving birth to a bouncing baby boy. Or girl. Or twins. We're not sure - the scan wasn't entirely conclusive. Of course, she and her husband-to-be, Blaine (a brain surgeon and part-time pilot from Boston in America), are as over the moon as we are and have already put him/her/them down for Yale.

Stephen Junior has started drama school and has already been marked out as a star of the future. According to his acting coach, he possesses the brooding intensity of a young Brando combined with the comic timing of Chaplin and hell-raising potential of Rourke. Of course, we wouldn't want to second guess the Academy but Stephen's putting up a shelf big enough to fit the odd little gold man, just in case.

Hugh Junior, I'm afraid to say, is our only disappointment. He just sits in his room all day doing his homework and playing with his chemistry set - hardly proper behaviour for a young teenage boy. If it wasn't for the excessive bouts of self-abuse, we'd be really quite concerned.

Brangelina continues to astound her teacher, currently excelling in the areas of alternative religion, and the twins are a year older and beginning to develop their own, highly distinctive personalities - in fact, they're so individual, sometimes I struggle to tell they're twins.

As for Stephen and I, we're still the very epitome of love's young dream, walking hand in hand down life's rose-tinted highway. We shared a beautiful weekend in Paris - more like a second honeymoon, really - had a glorious holiday in the Mediterranean, together enjoying the culture and landscape of the beautiful, unspoilt island. And without wishing to boast, despite our - or rather Stephen's - age, our nocturnal endeavours continue to confound medical science and, on occasion, gravity.

All in all, yet another wonderful year I know you'll have delighted in reading about. Merry Christmas and as Happy a New Year as I'm certain we will have.

Much love,

Edna, Stephen and family

PS. Oh, yes, and our baby's doing well. Will send you details of the christening as soon as we've decided on the date, the name and the sex.

Ha! Derivative, unimaginative and aesthetically redundant, my foot! I only hope I didn't go too far. Perhaps I ought to remove the bit about Stephen putting up a shelf . . .

6 Tuesday

Received another email from Mr deClarkson this afternoon. Brangelina's behaviour is still a cause for concern. Apparently, she's been acting the class clown again - and the official class clown isn't happy. I must say, he really has introduced some interesting new initiatives into the school.

7 Wednesday

I'm so proud. Brangelina's got a part in the school nativity. She's the back end of the Virgin Mary. It wasn't quite the role she had been hoping for, it must be said, but as Miss Campbell pointed out, there is no Archangel Herod.

Started to write out my list of presents for the family. Buying for Stephen gets harder every year. I mean, what do you get the man who has . . . well, me? I've scoured my brains. If only they did kebab tokens . . . In the end I gave up and asked him. Not very romantic, I know, but I would never have guessed what he really wanted otherwise - a Thermo-nuclear-octo-robogargantusaur. It's this year's must-have gift, apparently. Honestly, him and his gadgets!

8 Thursday

Bad news. Stephen Junior's musical has been cancelled. The council said it couldn't justify subsidising what had effectively become a one-man show, and the school said it couldn't afford to fund it on the basis of only one family buying tickets. I wonder which family it was?

9 Friday

Stephen's work Christmas do tonight. Of course, being self-employed, it's not a very big occasion. Shame wives aren't allowed.

10 Saturday

Ended up spending all night watching television, waiting for Stephen to get back. Honestly, I don't know what this country's coming to. According to the news, the police have revealed that over 100 major criminals have been traced. They say the police artist has been sacked.

Stephen finally deigned to return at six in the morning. Apparently, this Christmas do was a bit of a disaster. It seems he got way too drunk and told himself what he thought of him before faxing himself a photocopy of his bottom and snogging himself in the supply cupboard. I don't know how he's going to be able to look himself in the eye on Monday morning.

11 Sunday

Stephen's popped out to get the Christmas tree. We've decided to get a real one this year, for once. It's a shame because the kids love the fibre-optic one and it's so much easier to hoover up all those glowing needles, but Stephen hasn't had the chance to use his Debenhams balaclava and chainsaw set yet.

12 Monday

I knew I shouldn't have left Stephen to decorate the house for Christmas! I told him to make it look less like Las Vegas, so he got rid of the giant animatronic Santa. Now there's just Celine Dion and the hookers to go.

13 Tuesday

Bad news. Viennetta failed to get through to the
Now There's a Bit of Talent
Grand Final. She lost out to a sword-swallowing cat with a terminally ill grandmother. I was gutted. That's someone else to cook for on Christmas Day now.

14 Wednesday

Phew! What a day! The Shangri-la centre was packed. At least I managed to get everyone's presents eventually. It was easy enough to get the older kids' gifts (I just bought what they asked for - a 500ml bottle of Chantelle No 5 for Viennetta and Stephen Junior's Hulking Great Brut from More Money Than Scents). I'm sure Brangelina will love her new hamster, complete with cage and wheel of death, and as the twins are completely obsessed with the Telegoths at the moment I've bought them the complete set - Edgar, Alan, Lala and Poe. Then it was straight to the Pawsoleum to get special pet Christmas stockings for Fish, Posh and Tibbles. It might sound a bit silly but we don't indulge them the rest of the year - after all, a pet's for Christmas, not for life.

I did have one uncomfortable moment buying Hugh Junior's magic set when the shop cut up my credit card. Fortunately, when they gave me it back it was in one piece again.

Finally, I bought Stephen's Thermo-nuclear-octo-robogargantusaur. It took hours to track it down as everywhere had sold out. I eventually managed to find one in Toysaurus 'R' Us, and even then I had to fight off three small boys and a lady vicar to get it. I don't really know why I bothered. I can't imagine Stephen doing the same for me. His idea of making an effort is dashing out to the garage before they close on Christmas Eve, and even then it's usually something I don't need, or don't want or doesn't work. In fact, come to think of it, this diary's probably the only thing Stephen's ever bought me that isn't faulty in some way or another.

16 Friday

Spoke too soon.

17 Saturday

Took the twins to Santa's grotto this morning. Well, actually, it was Beardy Pete in the coach station toilets but they seemed to enjoy it. He's really made an effort this year. He had tinsel hanging from the cistern and a cinnamon-scented urinal block. And his lap was far less damp than last Christmas.

18 Sunday

How lovely! It's just started snowing. Isn't nature miraculous? All those beautiful flakes. As I told Subo, although they may appear the same, every single snowflake is completely and totally unique, just like her. Or maybe it was Asbo.

19 Monday

Stephen's having another day off work today - his back's gone again. I warned him not to pick up the Christmas
Radio Times
without warming up properly.

20 Tuesday

The carollers came round again this evening. Still a bit too early, in my book. I told them that they should come back when they've managed to perfect all the harmonies. And that it's still not 'lords a-laying'.

21 Wednesday

Brangelina came shooting home from school today. She couldn't wait to tell us the news. Apparently her classmate, Britnee, had a bit of an accident during the dress rehearsal. Something to do with a runaway truck - I didn't quite catch all the details. Anyway, to cut a long story short, my little girl will be playing the whole of the Virgin Mary tomorrow night! Looks like we've got another thespian in the family!

22 Thursday

We all went along to watch Brangelina in the school nativity this evening. Mr deClarkson greeted all the parents at the entrance to the school hall. It was lovely he'd taken the trouble to remember our names - we were the only parents to have been afforded such an honour, from what I could tell - although I must say his handshake seemed rather less assured than the last time we met and there was a little more saliva on his chin than I remember there being before.

The nativity set was very impressive - Miss Campbell had clearly gone to a great deal of trouble to make it as authentic as possible. Although I have to say I thought all the crucifixes were possibly a touch on the anachronistic side. I didn't mention it to her as she seemed quite fraught as it was. I don't suppose it can be easy organising a performance with excitable little angels like my Brangelina.

It all went very well until the final scene when Miss Campbell tried to hand Brangelina the baby Jesus - played, as ever, by Sharon Reynolds' Little Miss Poopy Pee-pee wrapped in a dog blanket. Instead of taking it and singing 'When a Child Is Born', Brangelina just stared wide-eyed at the little doll. Then all hell broke loose. The windows blew in, thunder cracked and
Carmina Burana
blasted out from the loudspeakers. The audience fled in terror and Miss Campbell cowered behind a children's Bible.

I think, on reflection, Mr deClarkson probably regretted choosing Stephen to man the light and sound system, although we did all enjoy the special effects enormously, once we'd removed the shards of glass from our hair.

Despite the unconventional ending, and rather diminished audience, Mr deClarkson proceeded to give a short speech thanking the children and staff for all their efforts. We were slightly surprised that he chose to give the speech in Swahili and that the bouquet he subsequently presented to Miss Campbell comprised a dozen sticks of rhubarb rather than the more traditional roses, but I suppose it's the thought that counts.