Kate

Another day. That was my first thought as I woke squinting
through last nights welded eyeliner. Had I dreamt the kiss planted on
my lips earlier or was it real? Did I remember to give Laura her lunch
money or God, did i kiss Laura and give David the lunch money? What
bloody day was it for Christ's sake? Had Laura made it to school?
What the bloody hell did i go back to bed for?

I
teased at my hair pulling a morning-face capable of stunning wildebeest
as my grey matter steadily accustomed itself. Realisation hit my return
to bed was actually a Birthday treat. I sank back into the warmth of
the bed nestling my head gently into the pillows and pulling the quilt
snugly around my shoulders.

 I was hiding,
trying to avoid the world his wife and just about every unexpected
visitor, salesperson, and wrong-number dialling loony the respective
world and its relations could fling in my direction today and probably
would should i ease on my furry slippers and venture down
stairs.

 Today unlike any other, was going to be
different, i'd decided. The truth is no matter how far i sent the
numerical prominence of today into the depths of my subconscious it
wouldn't change a thing. Today i'm thirty-nine and in exactly twelve
months from today my deadline runs out. Forty to me simply isn't a
number, its a turning point, a sign, a promise, an adventure a
momentary pause in the path of life. A time when i shrug off my
symbolic piny, the one i've been wearing for the last twenty-two years
take time from my compliant existence and head toward all the things
i've always wanted to do but never have.

 Being
a mother, a wife, a daughter and a Godparent and falling pregnant with
my eldest daughter Rebecca at just seventeen meant i'd missed the
majority of my late teens. Whilst my friends were disco'ing and
drinking from the very heady and full cup all trainer clad teenagers
sip from. I'd been sacrificing my all for the greater good, the greater
good of my daughters, husband and close family that is, my greater good
had some how been erased.

 Somewhere between
leaving school and becoming a mother and wife my good had evaporated,
my identity had changed. My individuality had been stunted along with
my will and wants, they'd been overridden, taken from me and instead of
everyone around me fighting my corner and helping me to retriveve what
was once mine. They'd simply brain washed me into accepting that
motherhood and marriage demanded a commitment so strong that part of my
very self was bound to be compromised, it was normal and acceptable, it
was a 'natural progression'.

 My answer? to
what? Furry boots, dentures and a blue rinse? From the outside, i'd
managed to quell the torrent that flows within to those who think i
should. Outwardly i oozed compromise, but inwardly i'd simply diverted
the flow. I'd inflected the screams of freedom, cast them into a
private place somewhere even at the lowest times in my life no one has
ever ventured into, no one except David that
is.

 I gradually began to respond to the thought
of coffee, though this morning i could down several neat vodkas, oh
what the hell i'm not actually going to have any, so why limit myself
i'll have a whole bottle and dance naked infront of the school bus. I
smiled to myself visualising the absolute chaos that would ensue. The
entire town would be horrified, my name would become synonymous with
the title loose woman, my sanity may well be challenged and my great
ant Eva would instantly write me out of her will. The words 'she's just
plain obstreperous' and 'what are we going to do about Kate' would echo
around her old fashioned living room, where she sits holding council
with my parents trying to aim me back into societies vertical
course.

 Today i could do anything, between
Laura going to school and the lamb chops i'm cooking for tea tonight,
anything is possible. Stretching to finally greet the morning i rose
from the bed and in seconds plummeted back down as pre imprinted
reasoning once again filled my mind. There was of course the shopping,
then the housework, and although mowing the lawn was optional, it was
still a valid 'to do' and of course it was Wednesday and my family
would be expecting me at some time today. Actually, not at some time
today it's not that casual.

 At precisely
1.30pm, my presence would be required at 56 Bain Tree Place, the door
would be left off the latch, even though i have a key. The kettle would
be on, the cakes were made and sandwiches in their thousands would have
been hand carved into bite size pieces by Mum and Aunty Eva and Uncle
Norman would be sat as usual in the well creviced sofa he always sat on
at exactly 1.30pm every Wednesday.

 Should
i or shouldn't i?as if i had a choice. If i go it will be again
like walking into the same play i've been walking into for years,
everyone knew their lines off by heart, even the facial expressions
were a foregone conclusion. I squirmed on the edge of the bed as the in
your face visualisation of Aunty Eva's ground in grimace
struck.

 Mum as usual would be hapy to see me,
Dad would be in the garden escaping Aunt Eva. The truth was Dad hated
gardening but as there's no place else to hide in your average semi,
the garden was the only option. Poor Dad for years he'd pretended his
fingers were tinged with green. Since his retirement, he's built an
ornamental pond, grown organic veg, and even had a fast fleeting fad
for garden gnomes. If the truth were known, the only reason he bought a
gnome in the first place was because it bore an uncanny resemblance to
Aunt Eva, God help him if she ever found
out.

 Dad will of course be happy to see me,
overjoyed in fact any distraction from speaking to Eva or taking Norman
out for a drink at the local was a Godsend. Aunt Eva will profess she
is pleased that i am still towing the line, at thirty-nine years old
for Christ's sake and will of course then refer back to all the
unacceptable trouble and torment i put my parents through from the
fourth year in school up until i had Rebecca. Uncle Norman is a
law unto himself and probably wouldn't even know i'd entered the
room

 Whether his ignorance was a cunning plan
derived from years of living with Aunt Eva or whether his inability to
converse is because the only person Aunt Eva could hoodwink into
marrying her is an inanimate alien, who
knows?

 I began to think back through the years.
The sofa clad with Aunt Eva and Uncle Norman had changed more over the
years than they had. I closed my eyes and visualised the past several
years of the sofa's history, it all came into view. Time had taken its
toll but at least the sofa had been renewed from a wing back to a four
seater and now it screamed 202, it wouldn't last it wasn't meant to. If
only Eva and Norman were fashioned in the same way not, not meant to
last although as the usual Wednesday lunch date loomed would it be such
a bad idea? Through all the various eras wear and tear
had festered stagnant just before the sofa transpired.
It's a shame the lines etched from the foreheads to the lower lips of
Eva and Norman's faces from the years of disapproving glares weren't a
sign heralding their forth coming change, flinging them into the
nineties. In fact, the sixties or eighties would be a move in the right
direction. Sometimes just the mere flicker of an eyelid to let other
room users know they were still breathing would have helped. In all the
years, i've walked into the living room, i've politely given in to the
prompt from Mum who always say's

&;quot;Say hello
to your Aunty Eva and Uncle Norman
Kate&;quot;

I've always complied and the only
response i've ever recieved is a low-throated groan from Eva and a
slight paper rustle from Uncle Norman. In fact, due to Uncle Norman
always being behind a newspaper, the alien theory could well fit. Under
the vast highways of text there could be a green three-footed
antenna-jiggling alien sat right next to Aunty Eva. I'd never seen
Uncle Norman enter the living room or leave he's always been in
newspaper-obscured situ.

 I 've been to hell and
back simply just trying to contain my rage in the face of such utter
rudeness. Underneath this calm exterior everything that makes me , me
from my sanity to my common sense was screaming say (fuck off) they
never take any bloody notice of you anyway and its true. If i was
carried naked into the living room in the arms of three German soldiers
wearing only beach towels, the joint ignorance of my Aunt and Uncle
would render them unaware of the debouched scene taking place in front
of them, a shame as it could well give them something new to be
disgusted about.

 I glanced at the alarm clock,
if i didn't get a move on I'd be late. Time is another restraint, why
can't life be unrestrictive and brimming with adventure? Who made the
conventionality rules anyway and who are they to say what should and
shouldn't be accepted? Why can't mothers be body modification fanatics,
wear size twelve steel toe caps and have 'dirty means nasty'
embroidered to the back of their child friendly double buggies? Who
would care if you moved into a tepee erected at the end of your garden
and painted your fence luminous pink? Why can't you change your second
name to a six letter well known expletive and your first to get? Why
are other people so dammed offended when you elect to live your life
the way you decide, why is it rebellious, why not simply a
choice?

 I was quickly reaching a point when
pondering may simply not be enough. I'd decided in my early twenties
that in the year before the pre forty deadline i would do all the
things i'd dreamed of doing i'd spent years putting things on hold. Not
just because they were impractical at the time, but because of the
reactions from others. I'd never cared what anyone else thought of me,
but in a society where conservative is etched into your gym shorts and
plimsoll's i'd had to give my wilder side a lot of
thought.

 &;quot;Yes&;quot; I shouted
finally rising from the bed. This is the moment i've been waiting for,
from today Kate is Kate. I flew towards the wardrobes nearly pulling
off the doors in my haste, i rummaged through all the clothes i wanted
to wear. They don't have to match kept flying through my mind in fact
they don't have to be anything i don't want them to be. I hurled the
entire wardrobe contents on the bed. Being a horder i've kept just
about everything i've ever bought in the clothing department. Usually
my attention to neatness is a virtue but in the light of the situation,
the bedroom carpet was fast becoming a sea of crumpled rags i was even
standing on David's suit, that had been hurled out along with the rest,
When i'd finished i was dressed with comfort and contentment
foremost.

 I stepped out of the bedroom in a
pair of spray on black elastic leggins a huge woolly jumper complete
with donkey motif and a pair of pink spotted boots i'd last worn at
sixteen. I sped up and down the stairs testing and basking in my
newfound confidence i was liberated. I didn't glide gracefully down the
last stair as quickly as my stilettos would allow as usual. I'd
embraced adventure head on and slid precariously down the banister
vaulting off at the bottom.

 Shit i was going to
be late, i considered the knock on affects. Would Aunty Eva turn to
Uncle Norman look behind his newspaper and implode as her cattle
barrening stare met his? Would Dad finally tell Aunty Eva what the
gnomes called? Will the house i know and love at 56 Bain Tree Place
suddenly fall into a vast chasm that's always been sitting under it
waiting for me to be late? I grabbed the car keys from the fruit bowl
and charged through the front door.

 The journey
to Mum and Dad's wasn't far and once i'd mastered the art of driving in
boots the journey was a little smoother. I pulled up outside the
familiar glossed white gate and my mind shot into overdrive, i'd swung
on it as a child, kissed against it as a teenager, and struggled
through it as a mum. Complete with all the usual backbreaking gear you
need with a teething toddler. One large duffle bag, one buggie, two
changes of clothes in a waterproof seperate bag incase of leakage. A
noisy toy bought by a partially deaf grandmother or a sadist Aunt who
never has to be in the same room when its being played with. A large
plastic changing mat, now ripped and sellotaped at the corner due to
the small width of the glossed white gate the last time you trudged
through it trying to balance all of the above with a screaming teething
toddler, who may well in the future develop a phobia of
gates.

 I locked the car door and walked towards
the front door, primed and ready for whatever may be on the other side.
The truth is i already knew what was waiting and it wasn't priming i
needed. Only an affliction from a higher force could save me now,
because unless i was about to be struck down and deprived of my senses
Aunty Eva and Uncle Norman were about to be fazed out.