Bedlam

NEW YEAR'S DAY -

Tuesday 1st January

I woke up this morning to an acrid burning smell, which mixed with a throbbing hangover and the noise of a loud snoring husband by my side, was not a hopeful start to the New Year. On further investigation, I discovered that the burning was the toaster which was actually on fire. Now that the dogs were barking and everyone was shouting a lot, Andrew was forced to stop snoring and wake up. He descended the stairs pretty quickly for a man who is at least two stones heavier than when we met, and had a purple fit when he saw the toaster.

‘Fuck!’ He screamed. ‘Open the window!’ He yanked the plug out of its socket and chucked the burning lump of melting plastic out of the window and into the garden where it landed face down in the pond with a very loud crack. By this time the smoke detectors had gone off, the dogs were barking even louder and the kids were shouting and blaming each other. Frankly, I didn’t care whose fault it was – I just wanted all the noise to stop. My head was pounding. Andrew went round the house flapping a magazine frantically at the smoke alarms until they stopped.

‘Who the hell thought it was a good idea to put bacon in the toaster!’ yelled Andrew, looking alternately at the two children still young enough to be out of bed this early in the morning.

‘It was him,’ they both said, pointing at each other. Andrew rolled his eyes. ‘You swore Daddy!’ Billy said, wide-eyed.

‘Yes, I bloody well did! I’m going back to bed,’ he said, grumbling loudly and holding his head.

‘Daddy doesn’t feel well,’ I told them.

‘Is he going to die soon?’ Billy asked.

‘No, I don’t think so – not yet anyway.’ Not unless there’s another domestic appliance calamity in the near future, I thought. In the last six months, we have waved goodbye to the vacuum cleaner, the car radio, two mobile phones, a computer screen, and the downstairs toilet flushing system, not to mention the umpteen small breakages which seem to be an every-day occurrence in our house. I eyeballed them both through the smoke. Billy aged 6 is my youngest and definitely last child, and his brother Luke is 11 and should know better. It’s really quite alarming, I reflected (on my way back to bed with a cup of tea), that my two eldest children could easily have burned to death, as neither of them thought to wake up during all that pandemonium! Honestly! Teenagers!.