I am sitting here in bed, at 9 am on a workday I might add, with a cup of coffee whilst reading the news. When did that happen last? There is an explanation to this however. Last night I was putting together a small soiree. The house looked like a mess and I admittedly bribed Victoria to clean up the house. She was going to get 5 euros for this little job. I returned to my computer, happy to know the wellness of the house was in the safe hands of my 11 year old daughter. 10 minutes later Victoria takes her first break. She goes and fetches an ice lolly and places herself in front of the TV. I am sitting in the same room – our dining room doubling as an improvised office.
“But Victoria you are surely not ready yet! “ I exclaim.
“I’m just taking a break” she says, firing off a quick smile and then turning to something vastly more interesting on the TV screen. I let it go for the time. I’m too engrossed in some excel sheets I’ve been struggeling with for the past hours. After her ice lolly is consumed, she goes onto do some more chores. 5 minutes later my daughter announces that she is finished.
“But you can’t be!” I look at the dirty dishes that are on the table and I know that the dishwasher hasn’t been emptied either.
My daughter is of a completely different opinion and when she can’t have her way i.e. get 5 euros for a rather quick and dirty job, she starts screaming at me. We enter into an argument and as quick-fix remedy allowing myself to get on with my own work, I send her upstairs. All said and done. Calm is descending once again, although I have to block out of my mind that the kitchen is a mess.
But it only takes a couple of minutes before I receive an SMS from my daughter. It’s sweet, and my motherly heart melts and I tell her to come downstairs. Perhaps I shouldn’t have. The moment my daughter appears in the doorway the bickering starts over the 5 euros, which I am not prepared to pay for such a haphazard job. Once again voices are raised and I send Victoria upstairs for the second time, this time I tell her she can make herself soup for dinner as she won’t be having sushi with us in the evening. The girl is reduced to tears, but she makes her soup and goes upstairs. It’s now close to 6.30 pm and our guest is arriving at 7. I quickly wrap up what I have to do and go upstairs to check on Sebastian. I can hear Victoria from her room and I call for her. Victoria agrees to finish the cleaning, which I now negotiate down to 3 euros, and I continue with getting ready.
At 7.20 our guest arrives. I love when people are fashionably late. In fact I can’t stand people being on time. It’s not only rude, common and cheap, but it also puts me in a bad mood as I have to do household chores whilst entertaining. A hostess worst nightmare.
I haven’t seen N in something like eight years. Time flies, but she hasn’t changed a bit and is still the epitome of French chic as I remember her. N immediately fires off a story about the Champagne that she’s brought. which starts off a string of anecdotes. When MJ and Reinout arrives we settle over a sushi covered table, but the conversation doesn’t stop there. It’s a very colourful evening, and the stories are fun, worthy a sequel of Sex and the City – le Film. MJ keeps interrupting pointing out the blog worthiness of these stories, comprising of personal anecdotes and memoirs and I can only agree. It’s brilliant!
It’s my own paltry experiences on steroid. I love N. I haven’t really had the time to get to know her before, but she’s the type of woman I greatly admire. Perhaps because those qualities she posses are in fact qualities of mine, albeit mine in a somwhat lesser league. I hope I will see her soon. I haven’t enjoyed such a good conversation in a long, long time….