Well, it happened like this…
Mr Turley forbade me from doing any more blogging until the house was spick and span and I’d completed all my charitable deeds for the boys' sports clubs. So by last night I was wild, livid, and prepared finally to throw the tea towel in. I could stand no more drudgery and so I planned a cunning escape. Having failed with the tunnel, I decided to take the more conniving route of escape... Through the front door in the early hours (Mr Turley would never expect such blatant audacity) and Mr Turley who sleeps like an elephant (and makes a similar sound too) would not hear me and I would slip quietly away into the night…
And so I packed my handbag with all the necessary items I needed to start a new life:
1. Mr Turley’s credit card. (Also his cheque book, savings account, current account card and the loose change he keeps by the side of the bed.)
2. A kilo of chocolate. (It’s a large handbag)
3. Clean knickers. (Essential for any woman who’s had a child)
4. Spare clean knickers (Essential for any woman who’s had three children.)
5.Lipstick. (Just in case I ran into Pierce again, I needed to look my best.)
6.Tissues. (So I can wipe around the toilet seat of any public convenience that does not have sufficient squatting room.)
7. A small pen knife which has my emergency tin opener on it. (Vital for impromptu meals.)
8. A can of baked beans. (For the emergency meal.)
9. A map of The Outer Hebrides and a one-way ticket to said place (and also a map of Pierce Brosnan’s house just in case I decided to stalk him.)
10. A wind up two-way radio so I can keep in contact with the outside world in case of nuclear war.
And so at 12.45 am I tiptoed out of the house. I decided not to take the car in case anyone should hear and I also took the precaution of puncturing Mr Turley’s tyres with my penknife so he could not pursue me... and then I headed off into the night.
At first, I walked. Then I trotted...and then feeling the breeze on my face and the sense of freedom I broke into a run… my pulse was racing, my heart pounding… I could hear the music of the theme tune to The Six Million Dollar Man in my head as I gradually ran faster and faster. My imagination took flight…
♫♫♫ Der, der, der derrrr…Der, der, der, der, der, der, derrrrrrrrrrr ♪♫♫
“Mrs Turley, housewife. A woman barely alive. Ladies, we can rebuild her. We have the technology. We have the capability to build the world’s first Bionic Housewife. Mrs Turley will be that housewife. Better than she was before. Better. Stronger. Faster.
♫♪♫ Der, der, der, derrrrrrr…Der, der, der, der, der, der, derrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ♫♫♪♫
And so I ran on and on and on… until I reached a stile and as I made a daring leap over it… the earth began to shake, the trees tremble, I began to sway from side to side and then suddenly… I landed flat on my stomach with my face in a cowpat. The ground continued shaking.
What was happening? Had I lost my senses? Had I gained more weight over Christmas than I dared imagine?
Eventually, I wearily raised my head and to my amazement saw an array of black shiny boots.
“Mrs Turley, Housewife Extraordinaire?” A voice barked in the night.
“Ye…essss,” I replied fearfully.
“You are under arrest for the wilful damage of Her Majesty’s Lands."
“Your running, Mrs Turley, has caused the strongest earthquake in this country for 25 years.”
“It has?” I replied, suddenly anxious that I might be imprisoned in Her Majesty’s Tower and forced to watch endless reruns of Prince Charles’ wedding to Lady Diana Spencer. Worse, I might even have to watch The Duchess of Cornwall at Ascot. (Although I’m not sure which race she might have been taking part in.)
“5.2 on The Richter Scale, Mrs Turley. It was lucky you fell otherwise we might have had to call a national emergency.”
And so here I am - confined to my house under house arrest. Responsible for an earthquake and with nothing better to do than housework…. and blog...
On February 27 at approx 1am The UK experienced its largest earthquake for 25 years, registering 5.2 on the Richter Scale. Fortunately, there was no loss of life although structural damage is expected to run into millions of pounds. A woman in her forties has been placed under house arrest pending further enquiries into her weight problem.
© Jane Turley 2008