I started telling husband a thing that happened and he interrupted me by saying “You have told me this before”
Yes, so I had but there was more to it and I remembered some more details I wanted to add to it, but he stopped me in my stride. I like talking and he must secretly hate it, so I have decided not to tell him anything interesting again and the next time he repeats a story I will halt him and make him stop.
Believe me with his Aspergers Syndrome he fucking repeats everything twice daily, this will be fun. I hate him today. I was watching him when he wasn’t looking and everything he did annoyed me, even the way he blinked annoyed me, the way he rubbed his eyes, irritated me, when he sat and picked his nails made me want to throw petrol on him and set fire to his big aggravating awkward body. Maybe its me, I know I must be hard to live with, I am fucking full on at times. I know this as when other comics meet him the first thing they always say to him is “Man, how do you live with her?”
It’s as if I am some nutter, but there must be something about me as 8 out of 10 comics say this to him, I suppose its because I talk a lot, I really do, I need to stop talking soon.
Then again it’s what I get paid for, so husband is an ass.
I don’t know who to do anything else. Comedy/acting and writing is what I do. I can’t imagine being anyone else.
I think I will work till I die. My mate Monica is the same; I am so proud of her. She owns her own PR Company in London, she works 24/7 and has her own office/staff and works full on, and she is also a great talker!
She is Scottish as well and took on PR as a job to fill in till she decided what her route in life was and now she expanded and she is one of the biggest and most influential PR people representing Chef’s/restaurants in London!
If you ever need a table at any of London’s most upmarket restaurants – then Monica is the chick in the know!
We were chatting the other day about the hours and the madness that we do and we both decided that what we do we love but it is very consuming.
I told her that I was chatting to a woman on the plane from LA when I was flying home from New Zealand; this woman had two wee girls with her and her lovely husband. The lady told me that she was planning on two more kids.
I immediately said to her “Oh, my goodness, how the hell will you find time to work, if you have more kids?” I was genuinely sorry for her.
The woman looked at me shocked and smiled “I won’t have to work, my husband has a good job, we have a big house on the beach in LA and I will have kids and raise them, why would I want to work?”
My brain took about seventeen seconds to work out why that was a good thing.
Isn’t this what women want? I asked myself. Isn’t this the ultimate dream?
Could I imagine giving up my life to raise kids in a big beach house in LA and have my husband work for it all?
No- is the clear answer for me anyways. I know it sound like a dream come true, but I just cant and never did imagine never working and depending on a man to do it for me. What if he died? What if he fucked off and you never had any skills? What if you went mental making table centre pieces Martha Stewart stylee? What if you were allergic to pine cones and linen table napkins and the very thought of matching your curtains to your bread bin made you want to shoot squirrels?
What if you hated your kids and turned your life into the Ballad of Lucy Jordan? (That great Dr Hook song where the woman kills herself through her mind numbing experience of middle class, suburban life)
Now I know that this isn’t every woman’s view, this is mine, but I was shocked at the thought that I never even considered it as a life choice.
It may have been easier for me had I married a man with that in mind, but it never even came into my train of thought….EVER.
When I met husband I was only 18 and he was 16. His family were much richer than mine (fucksake the poorest cousins of church mice were richer than mine) yet I never thought once if I married him I wouldn’t have to work and he would provide. Not my style ever!
I have worked since I was 16; I got three days off to give birth in 1986 and was back at work the day I came home from the hospital. I can’t recall when I never worked, though now being a comic/writer person I only work late at night to go on stage. The rest of my days are lent to writing and organising, though my manager John Fleming has a harder job. He has to organise me, advise me, nag me into doing stuff and cajole me into being productive.
So there we have it, I married a man who hates me talking and yet it’s what I do for a living.
I may kill him (again) but at least if I do, I won’t have to worry about who is paying the bills, who will provide for us, who will make the decisions, who will keep me company….I do that all on my own._