Mad As a Bag of Spanners
LEFT to my own devices without the steadying hand of my much better half I fear I would rapidly turn into one of those mad women who live on their own in a tumbledown cottage on the edge of the village, surrounded by books and animals.
I can see it now. I will be the one about whom mothers warn their children. "Don't hit your brother or Mad Woman will come and get you."
"Mcdonalds? No we can't go to Mcdonalds. If you carry on eating so much junk food you'll end up looking like that Mad Woman."
"You WILL do your homework. Do you want to end up like Mad Woman? I bet she never did a GCSE in her life."
Then the children will start teasing each other at school: "You love that Mad Woman, you do. She's your girlfriend, she is. You kiss her, you do."
I will be the one walking down the street pushing a pram full of old magazines and broken ornaments I have rescued from rubbish bins. I'll be wearing a moving and purring "fur coat", dogs following at my heels.
Underneath my "fur coat" I will wear every single stitch of clothing I possess.
My hair will be wiry grey corkscrews, my skin white with powder and my cheeks and lips stained vermilion with boiled beetroot juice.
I will laugh out loud for no reason, carry on conversations with myself under my breath and talk to walls and trees (if it's good enough for Prince Charles, it's good enough for me).
No one will ever visit me because my house will smell of cat pee and boiled roadkill with a subtle aroma of mouldering books in the background.
Legends will spring up about me having "treasure" buried in my garden and hordes of small boys with spades will creep in during the night and dig big holes and I'll never even notice because the garden is in such a state.
No one will dare hurt me because they'll be afraid I'll put a curse on them.
I'll spend my days sitting in front of the fire reading, stopping only to eat rabbit stew with foraged green stuff followed by, possibly, a half eaten chocolate eclair I've found in the hedge.
I'll never buy another scrap of make-up or stitch of clothing, making do with what I already have or what I can find in trash cans until the end of my days. I won't worry about money, what I look like, or have to watch my tongue. I will get up when I wake up and go to sleep when I'm tired, eat when I'm hungry and drink when I'm dry.
Then when night falls I'll be kept warm in bed by three collies and 25 cats who will all eat me when I die.