onlyemma's Diaryland Diary

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The Chat.

Well, it turns out "The Chat" wasn't one of those scary chats after all. I took ages faffing about, reluctant to go downstairs and embark on it, as it's one thing to stand around and spontaneously get told off, but walking into your punishment is like willingly walking into a bear trap. So eventually my mum came up to my room and talked to me on my own territory instead.

To be honest, I never like when people say they need to talk to me; or they ask if I have a minute could I give them a ring, or could I sit down for a second; it scares me and I always search through my brain, for all the things I've done wrong, like a giant filofax of sin, and expect to be told off. It strikes up the same kind of fear I get during every driving lesson when John tells me to stop on the left and I know he's going to make me do a reverse park or talk to me about roundabouts.

Anyway. Luckily it wasn�t one of those chats, and to my surprise, nor was it one of the embarrassing ones. We touched upon many subjects � namely moving house, my job (or lack thereof), my bank balance, my romantic wasteland of a love-life and alas, my invariable inability to put the towel behind the bath taps when I have a shower (I was never going to dodge that one). It was actually quite nice and I even got a mug of tea, made perfectly by my mum�s fair hand.

Calm was only temporarily restored in our household though, as yesterday afternoon my mum had the great task of trying to rally us all up to go to the BBC Proms in The Park. We go every year to sit in a field, listen to the orchestra, watch the fireworks and wave flags to Land Of Hope And Glory at the end. And to stuff our faces with picnic food of course; there�s nothing like being in the open air to get me gorging on ham sandwiches and crisps like there�s no tomorrow.

Unfortunately it was a bit of a wash-out though as the torrential rain set in as soon as we arrived, leaving us with little option than to sit around and will it to stop. Mainly everyone spent their time huddled under umbrellas with tepid drinks, trying to remember if the fireworks last year were really worth getting pneumonia for this time around.

On the plus side though, I decided to take the opportunity this time to have �The Chat� with my mum, as she was stuck under an umbrella with me and had nowhere to run. We had a good talk, though I do say that knowing all too well that it was mainly me rambling on about how I haven�t achieved much this year . My mum, on the other hand, spent most of that time staring into a packed lunchbox and randomly shouting to anyone within audible range, �there�s sponge in the cool bag!�

I got a lot off my chest during that time though; even if mum didn�t listen too intently.

However, at the crux of my angst I did feel slightly aghast at the low level of attention she was paying me, especially as we were in such close quarters, and I eventually said, �Mum, I�m pouring my heart out here! I have no job, no boyfriend and I�m wearing a cagoule. Can�t you tell this is a bad time for me?�

And with that, I lent back onto my sodden deckchair and waited for a response.

Mum turned, and instead of the words of belated encouragement I was expecting, she said to me:

�Walnut cake?�

12:22 a.m. - 2007-09-04

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