Every other evening at approximately 7.10pm, my neighbour stands by her window with one eye peering through her heavy velvet curtains. Her phone is in her hand. She has pressed 999 and her thumb hovers over the green 'call' button. But she hesitates. She just isn't sure.
The hysterical screaming always starts at 7.10pm or shortly after. It pierces through the air causing violent vibrations which shake her double- glazed windows and make her velvet curtains ripple. More disturbing is that the fact that it interrupts her daily dose of The One Show and she is forced to hit the record button and watch it after the hysteria disperses.
'Stop Mummy! Sttoooopppppp....my eyes! My EYES!!!!!!!!!'
'Whatever is going on in there', she wonders. 'What is that woman doing to them??!'.
The answer: I am just washing their hair, Audrey. That is all. I'm using the mildest, fragrance-free, hypoallergenic shampoo to wash the day's dirt from my children's heads. I know it may sound like I am torturing them, but I can assure you that I am not.
I stand here in my bathroom, whilst my kids wail with the conviction of Pavarotti on Red Bull, and I worry about Audrey. I worry about what she must be thinking. I've seen her eyeball peering around from behind her grotty, old velvet curtains and I know it is only a matter of time before she calls the police and I end up in jail, wrongfully accused of attempted murder.
JAIL. For washing some children's hair..
I think about it some more as I stand here with my ear drums rattling, on the verge of exploding altogether, and I think that prison may not be such a bad thing. Having recently watched Orange is the New Black on Netflix, I can honestly say that a stint in prison at this moment in time would do me the world of good.
1. ORANGE JUMPSUITS ARE SUPER COMFY.
Wearing an orange onesie would suit me down to the ground. It's baggy and comfortable and would hide my excess tyres of flab that I've acquired since birthing these two little monsters. I could leave behind the skinny jeans and the Wonderbras, cast the lacy pants aside and let everything all hang out under my jumpsuit. No heels. No mascara. No lipstick.No GHD's. Just plain old me with my massive natural afro chilling out in a onesie. Plus, my pals always tell me that orange is my colour. Ideal!
2. NO MORE COOKING.
No more spending hours chopping vegetables into miniscule pieces and hiding them in a smooth tomato-based sauce only to have it thrown across the room ten minutes after it is served. Food would be cooked for ME. All I'd have to do is hold my tray out and a nice lady with a facial tattoo would dollop it on. Just like that!
Sounds like BLISS!
3. I COULD SLEEP!!
No more waking up three times a night to hunt for a dummy that has fallen down behind a cot. No more scraping sticky poo's off tiny bums that have arrived as standard on the stroke of midnight. I could sleep ALL night in my bunk bed without interruption, listening to the soft snores of my female cell mate. Her gentle snores would sound like music to my ears compared to those of my husband. His snores resemble the hacking of an old asthmatic goat who has swallowed a fur ball.
4.I'D HAVE TIME TO DO STUFF
I'd actually have time to do stuff like sit on a chair. I could read a book- an actual book...perhaps learn a new skill like knitting or crochet! I could watch normal TV- NOT Peppa Pig or Dora The Frigging Explorer. No school- runs. No trips to soft play. No grocery shopping. There'd be no phones bleeping , no laptops flashing- no emails and texts and no daily calls from Jerry in Doncaster giving me updates on reclaiming my mis-sold PPI.
I'd have peace. Total, uninterrupted peace.
5. I'D MAKE GREAT FRIENDS.
I'd have a blast hanging out with all my new pals. I could be like Bridget Jones in the Edge Of Reason- just dressing up and doing dance routines to Like A Virgin. We could listen to each other's problems and have a good old whinge over a cup of tea. I might befriend a lush Transgender lady who has a gift for hairdressing and I could actually have my hair done for the first time in months! We could also have a giggle flirting with the muscly prison officers- I do love a man in uniform carrying a truncheon as it happens. Oh yes I do.
6. I'D BE RICH.
Gas, electricity, accommodation, food and clothing would all be FREE! I'd be loaded, presuming of course that Jerry from Doncaster stays true to his word and gets me a PPI refund. I could pocket all of the cash and afford to buy myself a little cosy barge when I am released. I could then live out the rest of my days floating up and down the Thames sipping Margaritas (whilst my kids scream at the Nanny as she washes their hair in the tub)
Now, I'm not naive, I know that there'll be a few unsavoury characters in prison, but I tend to get on with most folks. If I become the object of someone's affection, someone with 'Crazy Eyes' for example, then I reckon I'd only be flattered. A bit of attention wouldn't go a miss at the moment if I'm honest. And yes, I know there'd be a major lack of privacy -I'd have to have communal showers and pee in front of people, but I'm used to this already. Rarely do I get to have a shower or defecate without an audience these days. If I do decide that I need a little privacy, I could always cause a scene and get myself locked up in solitary confinement. This, as far as I am concerned, would be hitting the JACKPOT!!!
The more I think about it, the more I think 'Screw it!!!'. I'm not waiting for Audrey to make that call. I need my PRISON BREAK. I deserve it!!
I'm grabbing the Nerf Gun and I'm heading down to Majestic Wine to rob them RIGHT NOW!!!
See you all in a few months.
ME AND MY NEW CRAZY EYED ADMIRER
This post originally appeared on Katy's blog http://www.carryonkaty.com
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