Class Act


PJs woven from the pubic hair
of Peruvian peasant women.
Not really - but they could have been



THERE was much mocking laughter this evening when one of us sitting at my kitchen table revealed she had just bought a plain linen duvet cover for £200. £200? For that money I would have expected the bed, a couple of wardrobes, a brass bedstead and George Clooney thrown in.

We decided she'd become very middle-class. You know the middle-class - they're those people with names like Tiggy and Tarquin who live in large houses with stripped pine floors that give them splinters and have Agas in the kitchen they don't know how to use.

Tiggy and Tarquin sleep in bedrooms with Victorian cast iron fireplaces that haven't seen a flame since 1852, wearing pyjamas woven by Amazonian Indians from the pubic hair of Peruvian peasant women. They breakfast on wholegrain muesli drizzled with organic macrobiotic natural low-fat yak's piss and plates of guava harvested by an endangered species of colobus monkey.

After breakfast they take a power walk to work, counting their carbon footprints as they go, returning home for dinner of mountain goat testicles and beans cooked in an authentic Moroccan tagine they picked up for a song in a delightful little souk while on holiday.

Some divine guava.
In the evening their good friends Jools (who's something high up in the Beeb) and Jocasta drop by. Jocasta has decided to be "just a mum" for a while and extols the virtues of motherhood, "the hardest job in the world", which she manages with the help of "only" two nannies, a housekeeper, a cleaner and a gardener. She’s still breast-feeding little Leo even though he's leaving his Montessori nursery next week for a little prep school which a second cousin twice removed of Wills and Harry used to attend.

Finally, it's off to bed on a futon made from wood from sustainable forests to read books printed on recycled paper before switching off that lava lamp (a post-modern ironic statement - very retro-chic and jolly amusing) to dream of a holiday in a little villa in Tuscany ...... who knows, Wills and Kate may drop by.

I am, of course, only (half) joking. Although born working class, I am becoming more middle-class every day. I don't own an Aga but I would love one. And I love a bit fancy pants posh grub occasionally.

Even so, it's time to put on my flat cap, butter the bread with dripping and take the whippet for a walk while the chip pan heats up.


4 comments:

  1. Our neighbours are just like that! They were ecstatic when they pulled up their carpet to find wooden planks. They paid hundreds (maybe thousands, I don't know) to have it sanded, waxed and stained. I actually love wooden floors but theirs is hideous, very rough looking and uneven in an otherwise pristine house. Their kids refuse to go in their because they hurt themselves if they fall. You can see why the previous owners wanted to cover it up!
    P.S. I love your blog. It's very, very funny

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  2. My name is Jools. I have an Aga. I have wooden floors. My kids are at private school. I walk to work.
    However, I do not have a tagine. Could you tell me where to get one so that my middleclass credentials are complete?
    PS. I also think your blog is very funny, even when you are poking fun at all I hold dear.
    PPS. I hope your whippet is keeping well and your chip pan is nice and shiny.
    Julian.

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