Diary of an Unsmug Married by Polly James

Author:Polly James [James, Polly]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780007548545
Google: pXtXAQAAQBAJ
Publisher: HarperCollins UK
Published: 2014-02-13T00:00:00+00:00

SATURDAY, 28 AUGUST

Connie and the other interns have found a house and are moving in this weekend – so it’s back to testosterone hell for me. Once she’s gone, I shall again be the only woman in the house. No doubt this will cause a dramatic increase in facial hair, and I shall soon be fairground material.

In the meantime, Max and I have been nominated to ‘help’ Connie with the move, so now we’re having to talk to each other, like it or not.

Josh has escaped being drafted in, partly due to his arm injury – the one that he’s still milking for all it’s worth – and partly because he’s gone off to the coast with the boys, to stay at the beach house belonging to Robbie’s parents.

I had no idea they were so well off. Imagine owning a beach house, for goodness’ sake! Maybe Max and I could have arranged to borrow that. Then we could have gone there this weekend, instead of running around like maniacs, trying to fit what seems to be enough stuff to equip three houses into one smallish car.

Connie must be the world’s most useless packer, too. She persuaded Max to pick up loads of boxes from the supermarket yesterday, but God knows why he bothered – she only seems to have used about ten of them, into which she’s packed the most random selection of stuff I’ve ever seen. There’s half a ton of make-up loosely scattered inside saucepans and bowls, and her pot plants have been nestled inside her jumpers. There’s soil everywhere.

If she’d taken her time, she might have made a better job of it, but she seemed incapable of any activity while Big Brother was on, and didn’t even start packing until about 11:00pm last night. The result is that the bulk of her belongings are in bags. Not bin bags – which would have been embarrassing enough – but carrier bags. Hundreds of the damned things. And Connie is even worse at unloading than she is at packing.

When we get to the new house she stands next to the car, ‘directing’ us – until Max notices, and suggests she might like to join in when she’s ready. She scowls as if this is unfair, so I start counting how many trips Max and I make to and from the house – but give up fairly quickly when I run out of energy. Why is it always impossible to park anywhere near a student house on moving-in day? (Well, actually, I know the answer to this – it’s because no student can ever get it together to obtain a parking permit in time for their poor parents to be able to use it – once they’re been conned into helping their child move in. Or Connied, in this particular instance.)

Our precious little con-merchant carries only two carrier bags on each of the very few trips she makes. I have seen far more dynamic slugs. Then she takes a bag

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