Wednesday, 28 February 2007
THERE was much mocking laughter this evening when one of us sitting at my kitchen table revealed she had just bought a plain linen duvet cover for £200. £200? For that money I would have expected the bed, a couple of wardrobes, a brass bedstead and George Clooney thrown in.
We decided she'd become very middle-class. You know the middle-class - they're those people with names like Tiggy and Tarquin who live in large houses with stripped pine floors that give them splinters and have Agas in the kitchen they don't know how to use.
Tiggy and Tarquin sleep in bedrooms with Victorian cast iron fireplaces that haven't seen a flame since 1852, wearing pyjamas woven by Amazonian Indians from the pubic hair of Peruvian peasant women. They breakfast on wholegrain muesli drizzled with organic macrobiotic natural low-fat yak's piss and plates of guava harvested by an endangered species of colobus monkey.
After breakfast they take a power walk to work, counting their carbon footprints as they go, returning home for dinner of mountain goat testicles and beans cooked in an authentic Moroccan tagine they picked up for a song in a delightful little souk while on holiday.
In the evening their good friends Jools (who's something high up in the Beeb) and Jocasta drop by. Jocasta has decided to be "just a mum" for a while and extols the virtues of motherhood, "the hardest job in the world", which she manages with the help of "only" two nannies, a housekeeper, a cleaner and a gardener. She’s still breast-feeding little Leo even though he's leaving his Montessori nursery next week for a little prep school which a second cousin twice removed of Wills and Harry used to attend.
Finally, it's off to bed on a futon made from wood from sustainable forests to read books printed on recycled paper before switching off that lava lamp (a post-modern ironic statement - very retro-chic and jolly amusing) to dream of a holiday in a little villa in Tuscany ...... who knows, Tony and Cherie may drop by.
Sorry, getting carried away. Time to butter the bread with lard and take the whippet for a walk while the chip pan heats up.