I've been rowing in the basement so I'm all hot and sweaty. It's my regime to fight middle-aged spread. Husband bought the rowing machine second hand on eBay, it's a Concept 2, pricey, but worth every penny - especially when compared to annual gym membership which is exorbitant and the preserve of banker's wives round here - and we've had that machine for yonks.
It's SUCH a convenient way to exercise. I don't have to book an appointment, I don't have to liaise with friends, I don't have to get shouted out by some demented, lycra-clad, Zumba-loony jumping up and down in a grotty room above a pub on the High Road. I only have to get the dinner going at about six, whack on some trackie bums, nip down to the basement and slide backwards and forwards for fifteen agonising minutes as something bubbles away on the hob. It's done wonders for my bum. And no, I'm not going to include a photo to prove it - although it is quite tempting.
Anyway, I digress. So, I'm just coming up from the basement after rowing, with a risotto on the go, and happen to check my iPhone for texts/tweets/emails - as you do - and there's this email, subject heading: Lorraine ITV:
Hi Elizabeth,
We are considering stories for next week and this seems like a topic that might resonate with our viewers.
Thanks so much
Oh my word. So I immediately ring my mother. As you do.
"Helloooow?" she says, in that unmistakable way that means: why are you ringing me again now when we spoke only this morning? So I have to remember to be polite...
"How are you?" I ask. And so she tells me.
"Thanks for your email earlier," I say, "I was really touched."
"It is so important for people to say they are proud of us," says mother, "isn't it?"
"Yes it is," I say.
"I love it when you say you are proud of me," says mother.
"I am proud of you," I say.
"Oh good," says mother.
Right. Well. With all that out of the way, now I can tell her my news. So, I tell her what the email says and she puts me on speaker phone so my father can hear and I repeat it all over again.
"Are they going to pay you?" calls father from the background.
"Oh, gosh," I say, "I didn't think to ask that and it might not even happen."
"Well, if it does you should find out and check that you're not just going to be in the audience, that happened to me, they asked me on this programme, I can't remember which, to talk about religion (father is an academic) and then they put me in the audience and I only got to say one thing."
"Oh dear," I say. Then I think for a moment.
"Do you know what?" I say, "even if they don't offer to pay me I think I would still go, and even if they do just put me in the audience I still think I would go because... (I'm thinking again) it will get me out of the house."
"True," says my father.
And then I have to dash off because the risotto has completely dried out.
Then this evening, after a few friendly emails back and forth with ****** from Lorraine ITV, there's another one, quite late, to say they're sorry but they won't be needing me on Tuesday next week after all, but they will get back to me to run the story soon. Probably.
So off I go to ring my mother again. As you do.
Twitter @DOESNOTDOIT
"How are you?" I ask. And so she tells me.
"Thanks for your email earlier," I say, "I was really touched."
"It is so important for people to say they are proud of us," says mother, "isn't it?"
"Yes it is," I say.
"I love it when you say you are proud of me," says mother.
"I am proud of you," I say.
"Oh good," says mother.
Right. Well. With all that out of the way, now I can tell her my news. So, I tell her what the email says and she puts me on speaker phone so my father can hear and I repeat it all over again.
"Are they going to pay you?" calls father from the background.
"Oh, gosh," I say, "I didn't think to ask that and it might not even happen."
"Well, if it does you should find out and check that you're not just going to be in the audience, that happened to me, they asked me on this programme, I can't remember which, to talk about religion (father is an academic) and then they put me in the audience and I only got to say one thing."
"Oh dear," I say. Then I think for a moment.
"Do you know what?" I say, "even if they don't offer to pay me I think I would still go, and even if they do just put me in the audience I still think I would go because... (I'm thinking again) it will get me out of the house."
"True," says my father.
And then I have to dash off because the risotto has completely dried out.
Then this evening, after a few friendly emails back and forth with ****** from Lorraine ITV, there's another one, quite late, to say they're sorry but they won't be needing me on Tuesday next week after all, but they will get back to me to run the story soon. Probably.
So off I go to ring my mother again. As you do.
Twitter @DOESNOTDOIT
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