Blondes in 4x4s

As we get closer to going, I am looking around me with a more and more critical eye. It is as if all the things I didnt know I didnt like about life in the UK have suddenly crawled out from under the carpet and banged me over the head with a baseball bat. Noticeably, I have started irrationally hating middle class English people, as personified by the parents of my children's classmates at school, which is a bit rich since I am one.

Of course, I am still suffering from shock at having to do the school run, which I never did before. The other day I emerged from a huge tailback in the village to find the school car park full of 4x4s, just like in the Style magazine descriptions. Highlighted, well-groomed women were jumping out of them or leaning into each others cars and chatting loudly, blocking up the road. One had a convertible Mercedes which Jasmine told me was new - I dont know how everyone knows these things about each other. I felt a huge surge of hatred for them and passed this on to Jasmine who said that if you thought about it I also had a 4x4 or did, until we sold the Landrover back a couple of weeks ago, and a convertible Mercedes, now also sold, and blondehighlights so if you thought about it, people could say the same about me. I stuttered as I tried to explain the huge spiritual gulf between me and them. I pointed out that my Landrover was dirty and I was not well groomed, but apparently this was not really material and in fact I do realise that quite often people have made faces at me in the car and appeared to be mouthing things like "out of my way, you stupid stuck-up cow" which I also mouth at the school mothers.

Listen, inside I am not like that. First of all, I did not buy the cars; one was a company car from IBM and the other was Sandy's car which he chose for various spurious reasons such as it was big, because he used to be in the military and Jeremy Clarkson recommended it for driving up a mountain. For a long time I was very fond of my Toyota Carina, and before that my first and favourite car, a red Triumph Spitfire which leaked. Now that the Merc and the Landrover have gone, I plan to have a van, though what I would really like is an old cloth top Jeep of the kind we used to go to school in in Bangkok - I am not allowed to have that because apparently it will not be practical in the heat and also because there will be no spare parts and I will be stranded on a mountain road when it breaks down. As usual, Sandy likes to think of the worst case scenario and to paint it in vivid detail for me in case I don't get the point.

I am not saying I am not a style victim because I am, but my style is, I like to think, more alternative. What I really wanted to say to Jasmine was that none of those women have ever felt different, or poor, or excluded - ever. Not that I exactly have, but I've come a lot closer. Let's face it, I have worked in shops in Croydon. Anyway, I felt a great sense of relief when we got rid of the cars; like almost anything except cats, the cost of maintenance pretty much outweighs the pleasure. In fact, the more stuff I have got rid of, the better I feel; it is a great feeling cancelling direct debits, particularly when you find ones you did not even know you had. I was reminded of Snufkin in the Moomintrolls and what a nuisance he thinks possessions are and was starting to feel poor and virtuous as though I could go through the eye of the needle when I realised that I still had about 100 boxes full of stuff to go to Spain. On top of that, as Lara keeps reminding me, we are going to get other stuff, like goats, which will then have a baby which she will keep. It's not quite the simple life, yet, but perhaps it still can be.

Nothing is simple, though. All the time I was at work I held the view that women at home sat about having coffee but I now eat my words and admit that being at home is significantly more stressful than being in the office. A while ago, Trisha asked one of the posh mothers, Vanessa, who was talking in a loud voice about how busy she was, exactly what she did during the day. We all did impressions of her pushing her fringe back and saying "Well, as soon as I've dropped Holly off, it's time for my tennis lesson, then it's lunch, then Sainsbury's and by the time I've done that it's time to pick Holly up again." The fact is, she may drive a 4x4 and never have been poor, but she had a point. It's a round of boring jobs; will they be different in the sun and on empty roads? How long will I last before I have to hire someone to do the ironing, and go back to work?

Postscript: Went to a party on Sunday where I saw both my two sisters - unusual for this to happen but I expect to see them more once we have moved. Clare said that in Peckham it is the thing to do the school run in your pyjamas and not only that in general all mothers have the same ones from Etam with teddy bears on them. Clearly, there are whatever the cultural equivalent of microclimates is in the UK - it is just quite unimaginable that anyone round here to turn up in their pyjamas, let alone shop at Etam which I have to say I thought had gone out with C&A but is clearly alive and well in Peckham.