09 October, 2012

Missus C.

I have this truly wonderful best mate.  I've had the best fun with her over the past, er, 8 years or so.  We met each other for the first time at a Hot House Flowers concert in the, then, Point Theatre.  Myself , Ms. C and Ms. M were babysitting babies backstage (how rawk 'n' roll, man) and Missus C and Ms. A somehow managed to get right up to the front of the stage and Ms. C introduced me to the lovely Missus C and Ms. A.  (I know, I know, very complicated.  All these a, b's and c's.)
We went gigging and clubbing and fun having many times after that night.  One of these times stands out vividly in my mind right now.  A gang of us went down to Slane to see REM (still hate them) and Missus C. had packed a huge picnic for us all.  Only problem being, the security crowd confiscated all her Ma's cutlery (wonder how she got around that one) and when we finally hooked up she opened the back to find whole melons, bread and  .. . yeah, that was it.  Everything else, except her ma's cutlery, was still sitting on the kitchen table in Artane.
We became firm friends once I moved northside and she moved even further northside.  We're so 'northside' we live in North County Dublin.  That's, like, . . I didn't think Dublin was that big.  She had a baby when I had a baby.  Then I rang her in tears less than FOUR months after my baby was born to say 'Fuck, I'm pregnant.  Again!!!'.  She said '..............so am I!!'.  She wasn't crying though.  
Hey, no. 3?  You were a shock but you've turned out something wonderful.
We have been swimming in our bras and knickers together, to no. 1's mortification.  We have become masters at getting the most into our cars.  We have legged it around the UK on shopping trips and nearly missed ferries together.  
I love her when she's drunk and once shared a bed with her whilst she was totally pissed because I was afraid she'd choke on her vomit!!  Yes, we're that classy.  That was such a fun morning, she had to get up and go to a christening.  No. 1 came into my room and said 'er, why is Missus C. in bed with you and daddy downstairs?'.  I was relieved when, instead of puking on my carpet, she puked into her new top.  Should I point out we were 35?!  Oh jesus, what was really funny about that night was, I had gone out with her and some other northsiders for drinks and fun. We got home around 3am and Himself was already in bed.  I didn't want Missus C. sleeping in the spare room because the carpet was brand new and I knew she was going to puke and she would have woken the kids.  I went up to Himself, in our bed, and said 'slursleephereyoualright?'  Himself had a bout of tonsillitis and the sweat was pumping off him.  He and Missus C. then passed each other, half naked, on the stairs , 'h'lo.  I went into the en suite (why don't we ever just say 'loo?' I mean, it's far from en-suites we were all raised) to remove my make up (that's how drunk I was) and when I came out she was lying in Himself's sweaty half of the bed.  Result!!
She went on to have a number 3 and 4 and I refused to join in.  I was fecking knackered.
I'm telling you all this because (I'm really writing her a 'you're wonderful' letter but you've worked that out already, haven't you?) she's my best mate and we don't get to see enough of each other.
Which is quite shite.  That happens though, doesn't it?  When you get older.  Kids become more mental, work becomes more mental and, for some insane bloody reason, once you hit 35 you're bloody knackered all the time.  Shitebags.
Anyway, my darling Missus C. I will do my utmost to see more of you.  I kinda love you too xxxx  Would love you more if you weren't so annoyingly skinny xx

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