From Jester To King XXIII

 

§

 

The Bloom family the ideal family. Before the ceremonial Friday night dinner a short invocation to tranquillity and equality and above all to zero tolerance on family favouritism. Each attendee to speak uninterrupted for three minutes on his feeling towards other assembled members down to the very youngest should they not even be able. About any issue thorny or thorn-free in the spirit of openness and clearing the air. Present this evening: Blooms: Sandra (grandma), Antony (oldest, unmarried but with no shortage of dalliances), Richard (youngest), Laura (née Cartwright) wife of Richard, Elias and Giovanni (children of Laura and Richard, victims to tantrums and hissy fits), Gramps Jeremy (in spirit, may his passing be a blessing) prior to tucking in to the staple chopped liver entree. As wrathful as necessary should the truth require it and at least until the egg timer has run out of sand.

 

Richard begins: This whole family is completely screwed up. No one tells the truth. No one communicates anything. Everything goes left unsaid. We all know Antony has a complete hold over Mummy when it comes to deciding anything. The fact I’m working for him doesn’t automatically mean I’m even less important. Why shouldn’t I be consulted on things, I should have the same status as he does? Even the tiniest thing like what time we eat on Friday nights and why it’s always past 8:30 by the time we sit down after Kiddush. It’s like you [pointing at Sandra] and Antony have your little private cabal and no one gets a word in edgeways.

 

Grandma Sandra Bloom itching to speak:

 

Antony decides because he arranges the whole dinner and don’t exaggerate because you always leave by about 9 anyway.

 

Richard interjects: Because I’ve got a three month and a five year-old! Is this part of your three minutes?

 

Sandra replies, it is now, and picks up the egg timer although it hasn’t yet run for three minutes for Richard.

 

Richard, everyone thinks could do anything you wanted if you set your mind to it. You’re a bright boy. Working for Antony is supposed to be a stopgap because we thought it would be better than you just sitting at home all day. You’re always accusing me of things I haven’t done, I don’t deserve it…I just want an easy life and a peaceful Friday night dinner with my family.

 

You’ve still got more than half your time, Antony points out.

 

Look I can’t help it if Antony’s headstrong. If you want input then you need to shout louder.

 

Why should anyone have to shout in the first place? Laura Bloom fairly shouts. Sandra Bloom casting disapproving look.

 

I’ve finished Sandra adds, although the sand hasn’t quite flickered out yet.

 

Laura recommences:

 

Richard didn’t want to work for Antony, you both forced it on him. What about all his business ideas which are roundly ignored?

 

If he finds the money I’m all for them says Antony. The fact is, is he’s now earning the money that’s paying your mortgage.

 

He was entitled to that money in the first place, resumes Laura

 

As you know we both agreed to give it back to Mum, says Antony.

 

As your father would have wanted, says Sandra.

 

No I don’t know otherwise his will would have been different, adds Richard.

 

Richard I don’t know why we come here, says Laura.

 

Because you never ask us round to yours? says Sandra.

 

You say you won’t go to Pinner Mum, interjects Richard.

 

I’m not sure I’d want you there in the first place, Laura continues. When Elias doesn’t finish his chicken or wants to leave the table and play on the iPad, it’s like it’s unheard of a living child’s ever behaved like that, he’s a six year-old for god’s sake. Stop criticising my children!

 

Sandra Bloom turns her head away from Laura Bloom who she is sitting next to.

 

Antony pays for everything, gets it all brought in, all you have to do is turn up, and not only that but you’re ungrateful… and I’m afraid you’re right I don’t think your children behave appropriately. If it were me they’d do as they’re told.

 

[For background: Antony gets all food prepared and brought into his flat by his in-house caterers]

 

Mum, Antony’s says pacifyingly. It’s not your turn.

 

Your shickse daughter-in-law has finished says Richard handing the timer to Antony.

 

I don’t really have anything to add. [Looking at his mother.] What do you want me to say? Elias’s turn then.

 

Mummy I want dessert.

 

I’m afraid he can’t have dessert until we’ve had our chicken, says Sandra.

 

MUUUUUMMM.