Caffeine  today: 3 coffees and I’m just about to tuck into number 4.

Shh! I’ve escaped! I’m out, in the day time, without children. My mission is to write, drink coffee, read a magazine, eat cake and not talk to anyone else, no one, not even the person I ordered coffee from (I ordered using telepathy and hand gestures). I’m exhausted with the sound of my own voice ranting and reasoning and failing at reasoning, all day, every day. I need to recuperate some energy and in my world talking is a leaking tap of energy, so unsociable quietness it is. Hurray! The in-laws have Edi and Ben is at school and I’m hiding in the coffee shop attached to our local Tesco. It’s not my first choice of coffee shop but my closest and time is of the essence so necessity over luxury has won.

So far I haven’t been spotted by anyone I know so I can only assume that my disguise as a moody, knackered cow is working. The cow is metaphorical, if I were actually in a cow costume I feel I would be drawing more attention than I wish to. Anyway, the point is I’m alone and no one is talking to me and it’s beautiful, I’m even managing to achieve a bit of cathartic writing (this).

Writey-writey-write-write. Yippee! Sluuuuurp. Aaaaahhhh! Coffee chugging down my neck, the carrot cake is going to get it next. Massive chomp coming up. Yuuuuuuum! Lah, dee, dah, this is great!

Oooh what’s this I can see on the front the overpriced home magazine I’ve bought? A gorgeous sofa no less, it must be fate because we’re looking for a new sofa. I wonder if it’s within our budget? Probably not but let’s look. Tum-te-tum, hmm, ah! Here it is. £5000. Bugger. Why can’t it be £500 like most normal people can afford? Oh well, I only bought it to look at the pictures anyway I don’t want to actually read anything, that requires using my brain.

Sluuuuurp! Coffee heaven, writing heaven, cake heaven, magazine purgatory (can’t win ‘em all).

Oh no! A friendly looking older lady has just caught my eye and smiled at me. Piss off! I don’t want to be smiled at, smiling leads to conversation. Look down Bea, keep writing and do not look up again. Shit, just looked up again. Why did I do that? I obviously don’t have any will power only a massive self-destruct button, I am a dim-witted nincompoop. Hang on. Being horrible to myself was not part of my escape plan. Start again Bea, keep writing and don’t look up.

Whoops, I’ve got crumbs all over the keyboard and the small iced carrot has landed on my space bar, I’m just going to pick it up                                                                      there, got it.

And now to shake the crumbs off.


Oh, there’s a smidge of icing on some of the keys, I’ll just wipe it off AHSJBDEWLjlaSBCASJDCBXNA jlksjhdagfaskdfgsd;KVJBJzdsnva;.


Shit, I’ve just looked up again! And she’s just smiled again! What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with her? Why is she so bloody nice? Psychic message to older friendly looking smiley nice lady who is trying to make human to human contact: “I vant to be alone”.

Hang on, what if I know her? Oh my God! What if I know her from the school run? It’ll be school gate suicide if I ignore her! She might be someone’s Nan. Shit, better get a good look at her. Perhaps if I keep my head lowered but look up at the same time I might be able to see her without her noticing that I’m looking at her… nope, that didn’t work. Instead I created three extra chins for myself and a headache from pushing my eyes into my eyebrows and my eyebrows into my hairline. I must have looked like I was about to die or poo.

A quick direct look is necessary.

No, I definitely don’t know her. So why is she staring at me? Wait a minute, did she just give me a pity smile? Actually, is she smirking? I’m going to ignore her. Head down again.

Mission “escape” was not supposed to be like this. Chill Bea, chill. Enjoy the time to yourself and get some writing done, ignore the smiley people around you and write yourself into an introvert’s coma. What to write about? Don’t think too hard or it won’t come… erm…  perhaps I should write about one of my dreams just to get the juices flowing – but not the one about the time I gave birth to a 2 litre bottle of Coke, that’s too weird. Shit, my brain’s gone dead… breathe… write yourself free Bea, be free Bea, be free… breathe… free… write free… Oh God it’s happening! I’m melting. Without the disorganised chaos that is my day to day life I can’t cope, I’m turning into a hippy without the hip, I’m just a pee, a wet yellow puddle of pee. Perhaps I should have gone to bed and slept instead of coming out. Actually, I do feel quite tired. Lean back and streeeeeeetch it out.

Damn! I looked at smiley lady when I stretched and caught her eye just as she’s leaving. Oh noooooooo she’s coming this way and it looks like she’s going to talk to me…

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to disturb you” Even her voice is friendly.
“That’s ok” It’s not.
“But I just thought to myself that I must tell you my love that you have your top on inside out and back to front.”
“Oh! Do I? Oh! Right, so I do, ha! Look at that! Ha ha ha ha ha! Thank you. Ha ha ha ha…” I’m not laughing on the inside.
“That’s alright love I know I’d want to know if I left the house looking like that.” She’s pity smiling at me again wafting her hand in front of my top. Please don’t waft. Wait a minute, is she trying not to laugh?
“Alright love, you have a good day then. Perhaps you could nip to the loo and sort yourself out. Bye now”. She just laughed “Bye” at me! Cheeky cow! And oh my God! She’s just pity-patted me on the shoulder as she’s left!
“Will do, thanks for telling me. Bye” Why did I just say that? I don’t mean “thank you” I mean I hope someone puts rocks in your trolley bag and someone gives you a pity smile and laughs at you as you’re sweating, struggling pulling it along and your brown tights start to fall down. But I’ll never say that because it’s a drummed-in cultural compulsion to be polite to people I don’t want to be polite to, I can’t help it.

Oh God! Someone help me! I’m not only two-faced but I think I might actually be evil too.

I should definitely have gone to bed instead of escaping. I am obviously not fit to be outside on my own. I can’t believe this has happened. Actually I can.

Bea x

One thought on “Escape

  1. Oh the stress of free time without kids and how to make the most of it!! Hee hee, can definitely relate to that one!


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