Happy New Year one and all. Did you have a good Christmas? Do you hate the first few days back at work in January because you have to say ‘hope you had a good Christmas’ to everyone you email / call / see, when really it was ages ago and you just want to get on with it? Me too.
Over the festive period, news broke that, back in 2006, Glenn Mulcaire hacked Prince William’s voicemail to Kate Middleton, and, would you believe it, he had a pet name for his lady. Babykins. This is obviously huge news.
We are as insatiably hungry for these private facts about Kate and Wills now as we were then (perhaps even more so, now that their marriage is firmly imprinted on our minds) even though it’s none of our business what they call each other behind closed doors.
“A petname for his lady. Babykins”
They must be mortified to have such soppy, intimate information disclosed to the nation. I feel sorry for Kate, who in my head is my best mate and lends me all her dresses, which is why I thought I’d reach out to her as she is probably reading this.
Kate, be comforted by my disclosure here, for you are not the only couple with pet names. I call mine Princess Beardface. Why do I call him Princess Beardface? For the same reason Wills calls you Babykins. Because I love him. And also because he is such a fuss pot about out-of-date food or vegetables that have been undercooked and pizza that’s been overcooked. Hence the Princess part. What a bloody princess he is, just eat the damn food! As for Beardface. Well, he’s got a beard. The cap fits.
In other news, I had a lovely Christmas. We had a chef staying with us so I sat back and drank while he created a storm in my kitchen. No undercooked veg or overcooked pizza on our Christmas Day. No sir, the meal was a feast, cooked to perfection.
Then we hosted an enlightening new year’s eve party. I found myself simultaneously sad that I’ve got a friend of 31 who still acts like a 17 year old while also wishing my female friends, also of the average age of 31, weren’t all so pregnant or breast feeding, as it makes them drink less.
But such is life. Women get pregnant, they grow up, they make life choices that are more beneficial to their babies than to my social life. That’s the ebb and flow of life. People change and change is good. That’s sort of why I feel sad for my friend who hasn’t changed at all since we were 17. Of course I’ve still got Princess Beardface, my husband, and Princess Kate, my imaginary best mate. Although, she’s just had a baby too, I bet she was in bed by midnight on New Year’s Eve. I think I might have to have a baby, just to keep up. Which sounds like just as sensible a reason to have a child as the only other reason I can think of, which is, to get to name something. In case you’re wondering, our first born would be called Florence Le Seelleur Jones, or Flo Jo, for short. We’ve got it all planned out. But perhaps another chicken would be a wiser option. I am loathe to commit to any resolutions at this time of year, time past has taught me that I don’t stick to them so they serve only to make me feel bad about myself some time in mid February. Much wiser not to try and be a better person in the first place.
However, Princess Beardface is like a new man. He made lunch yesterday. He’s listening to the words that come out of my mouth in a mindful, considerate manner. Mindfulness is his desire, you see. He loves it. He’s fully embracing meditation and living in the moment. Just now he announced he was off to eat a raisin, mindfully. He returned to the office and gleefully announced he had successfully eaten a raisin, mindfully. It’s his new raisin d’etre.
I’m not very good at mindfulness myself. Beardface tried to make me meditate yesterday. ‘Just breathe in through your nose while thinking about the colour green, then out through your mouth while thinking about the colour yellow,’ he instructed. I did it. Within 60 seconds I was asleep, then I shouted out: ‘DOES GO DADDY KNOW?’ Which makes about as much sense as you think it does and rudely interrupted my peaceful mid-meditation snooze.