A Mumsnet story....add a part

[StephanieSpeilberg]

I’m bored home alone and have tidied enough to impress my mother. Please entertain me.

Opening:

Our main character Susan, who has twins and is wearing a jigsaw dress, pulls into her local supermarket for a naice ham and a chicken to last 10 meals.

As she pulls into the car park, she notices a man in a van parking in a child and parent bay with no child to be seen. Susan contemplates whether she would be unreasonable to roll her window down and tell him straight, but instead she parks in a different space whilst muttering profanities under her breath. She knows her friends would call her a pushover, but she hasn’t the confidence of Alice, who would have jumped him with an umbrella and called him a cockwomble.

Now add your part....

lighthearted

an Mills and Boons book while sipping a glass of sweet sherry.
She decided to log onto Mumsnet to ask

Which supermarkets had stock and delivery slots. She didn't think her location was relevant, because she subscribed to the theory everyone lived in London, and in particular her ver naice area of London. Susan couldn't go shopping herself because with her self diagnosed preciousophobia she had decided she was in the vulnerable group. Susan couldn't chance ordering and receiving a substitute for her

Expensive gin and thought they may send her some Waitrose own brand brown eggs instead of the lovely blue ones she likes.

She thought she would choose the local veg delivery services as musnetters were most unhelpful, demanding to know which postcode she was in. Of course these were all full too

So she

She decided she was going was going to visit the local allotments at mignight, she was a vip so any crop was fair game. However she did not bargain for

Soil, or to be precise the crops being in the soil. Susan searched in vain for the plants with cellophane packets of ready chopped rocket hanging from their boughs, and was bemused by the rows of weird greenery where she expected the exotic fruit and kale. Susan did spot some potatoes that had clearly been abandoned because they were dirty, but she didn't eat them because all good mumsnetters know white carbs were akin to arsenic.

Susan wished to complain to the management, but

...she could only find Monty Don, hiding out in a shed, sipping finest port.

'Social distancing you cockwomble' Susan screamed when she realised that his chair was within 2m. Brandishing one of the 7000 hand gels she always carried on her

Monty smiled in a lopsided way, Susan was taken aback at how blue his eyes were, they reflected the brilliant spring sky perfectly.
"Would you like a glass of port" purred Monty, as he leaned back in his chair. "You seem a little harassed, come and sit down". He pulled out an old, worn wooden chair and patted its seat reassuringly.
Susan's wind was taken out of her sails and she stood there blinking at Monty, her arms straining from the weight of her 7,000 hand gels. Monty moved from his seat seamlessly, took the bags from Sudan's hands and gently but firmly ushered her into the seat. From the potting table he snatched up the bottle of port. Fruitlessly searching for a clean cup he gave up, swallowing the port from his mug he untucked his shirt and, using the shirt tails, cleaned out the mug. He poured Susan a large measure and placed it into her trembling hands.
"Now, Susan" said Monty ........

…”I guess you know that I’m a horny-handed son of the soil. I’d love it if you would get hold of my dibber and…

Give it a good’.... but before he could finish Susan began sneezing violently ‘do you have dogs in here?’ She cried ‘in allergic to dogs!’ Monty shrugged ‘why that’s just nelly and Nigel, don’t worry Nigel never wakes up anyway he’s stuffed’

Susan was outraged that monty could try take advantage of her and she wanted to ltb ‘this is emotional abuse!’ She cried squirting some hand gel into montys face.

All of a sudden there was a flash of light ....

And Diarmuid Gavin appeared, he smiled winningly at Susan and held out his hand to her, saying in his lilting Irish voice, “I’ve come to show you how to soften your hard edges.”
Susan wondered if she was on glue, but quickly got her ducks in a row and replied....

'Oh, well, I, em, yes, I , er do have some hard edges that I'd love you to smooth', she brushed out the creases in her skirt and blew her fringe out of her eyes
'Good man' said Diarmuid 'now, if you could just bend over the chair, I'll get the shears'. He gave a throaty laugh and rummaged in the corner of the shed.
'Oh, for fuck's sake!' he exclaimed 'they're blunt as old Tom's boots. Ahhh well, they'll have to do. Hold yourself steady there Susan it'll be over in a jiffy'.
Diarmuid grabbed the ends of Susan's hair, which was dangling messily over the back of the chair and in one deft move he chopped it all off. Susan stood up, wobbling slightly from being bent over, and shook her hair out. Diarmuid looked at her with his head on one side and said .....

...'I believe that's what's known as a mumsnet haircut. I've read about those, sneaking a look over my wife's shoulder when she thinks I'm busy doing one of my hobbies. I thought you'd like me to give you one. She doesn't understand me, of course.' Susan howled. She went weekly to the sort of hairdresser where you had to book 3 years in advance and even then would only be taken on by personal recommendation, preferably from a major minor celebrity. 'Get away from me with your Irish lilt', she shrieked, 'you don't fool me! You look like the sort of man who leaves poo crumbs.....'

“There! An absolutely perfect Mumsnet haircut. I’ve been longing to do that for years!”
He rummaged in his trouser pocket and pulled out a patterned scarf, saying....

...' I believe these are very popular with Mumsnetters, although I think the rest of the population stopped wearing them in the 1990s. Maybe you have a use for it?'

With a single deft movement, Susan took the proffered scarf, whipped Dettol fabric aerosal from her pocket, gave it a good dowsing and then tied it around her face to create a mask.

She then strode out of the shed, banging the wooden door behind her leaving a surprised (and somewhat impressed) Monty & Diarmuid in her wake.

On the way home in her bmw 4x4 she couldn’t help notice how many men were out cycling. As she watched she thought about how She was still out of food and needed to replenish the cupboards before everyone was starving and had to resort to pot noodles.

Susan was so busy thinking about how she might let her family down she didn’t notice ...

That she had driven past Booths AND Waitrose, so her only option now was to....

...drive 60 miles to the nearest Farm Shop. She was sure that if she asked on MN, everyone would agree it was an essential journey, especially if she combined it with a 15 mile jog around some farmers' fields for her essential exercise...

And her stilettos were not the ideal jogging shoes but she was not going to let a small detail stop her on her mission to

Get those all important essentials. She could even knock on pamelas window on the way past and have a chat. She’s keeping 2m distance so it will be fine.

So she drove to the farm shop. It was not her usual organic farm shop. It would have to do, needs must. She pulled into the car park and took the trolley bags her ds1 bought her with his own pocket money out of the boot. To her surprise there weren’t many people in the carpark so this Ment she could get round quick without any plebs coughing in her face.

When she made it to the door ..

A huge 5' vicious pit bull ran out snarling and trying to bite her. Well, a border collie ran past her minding its own business, but Susan felt it was best to embellish the encounter from the start so she got her story straight when she began the daily dog haters thread later on

'Get your child eating giant beast on a lead' shrieked Susan, as she threw hand gels after it, in an attempt to stop it killing millions with the corona virus she knew it carried in its fur.

'Why did you barge into my house and why are you trying to shop in my kitchen?' asked the dog owner.

Susan had been around too long to concede she wbu, so began to rant incoherently to buy herself time to think of a drip feed to validate her entitlement. Meanwhile

the dog tired of Susan's rambling decided that her leg looked a bit like a lamp post and decided to mark his territory. Susan

took this as a veiled insult about the size of her legs, and immediately took a photo of her thigh so she could post it on mumsnet asking for compliments opinions. Susan valiantly juggled typing on her phone, dousing her leg in dettol, fighting the homeowner for her pasta and writing passive aggressive comments on the pta WhatsApp, all while

eying the farm house kitchen table and wondering how she would fit in the back of her jeep.