*Chapter 10 is in two parts, I have recovered the majority of my work but sadly not this treasure, so I am re-writing. Enjoy you bunch of beauts!
We were going to have a lovely Christmas, I was going to make sure of it. I’d invited our neighbours round; Jason and Nicky, they lived next door to us in one of the studio apartments. They also had a dog which they weren't supposed to called Dusky but we knew our landlord was a little soft. He didn't care so long as he got the rent money, plus, Nicky and Jason smoked copious amounts of weed leaving their front window slightly ajar which filled the street with green clouds of thick smoke and even then the landlord hadn’t mentioned a thing. I figured he wasn’t arsed unless we were literally rioting anyway; the location of our flat was convenient for him to park his whopping great big Jaguar out the front whilst he and his wife did their shopping - 6 parking spaces on each side that he owned but not one of us other than Matt and I had a car. Poor folk don't own cars, we were an anomaly, people renting a studio apartment with bills included for £360 a month were unlikely to have much left in their budget. Nicky and Jason were kind and funny, Nicky had gotten me the job at Budget Frozen foods where she was a supervisor. She had a thick Lancashire accent and was always ‘on the turn’, always having some kind of drama with someone new each week and usually it was Gordon our manager. Nicky was the best at catching the shoplifters, and if she felt sorry for someone she’d turn a blind eye at them legging it out the shop with a pack of steak, nappies and coffee, but if she disliked them she would run after them which would give me and the other girls a good giggle. She would run off ranting and raving reciting the Theft Act 1968 to them as they ran faster than her down alleys only those folk knew existed. We often had young girls stealing nappies which hurt my heart - I felt for them, I wasn’t too far away myself from needing to steal tampons, Nicky would say things like “Poor love, I swear she's being abused, have you seen her in here with her fella? Collecting her benefits no doubt and spending it on himself rather than letting her buy the baby nappies, what a bastard, I don’t mind her stealing nappies” But if it was Patsy, the red haired woman who had about 10 kids, then she’d run after her like she was training for the Rio 2016. Nicky, quick witted and highly intelligent but also often stoned hence her paranoia would often moan to me about ‘so and so’ in flat number whatever. She was the resident Hetty Wainthrop and she shared my love of reality TV so if we weren’t gossiping about someone local we were gossiping about the real housewives of Orange County and Kyle Richards from the real housewives of Beverly Hills being Paris Hilton’s aunt .
Boxing day was already sorted and we’d be going to Kirsty’s to spend the day with her clan gorging on delicious buffet foods and playing stupid present games which I loved. Her kids were really what made my christmases, I wanted to one day be in a position where I could spoil all the kids and buy them whatever they wanted. This year I'd managed to save enough to spend £20 on each of them and I was dead proud. I’d budgeted within an inch of my life and was so good at it now that I had managed to save enough to go to Milan’s manifestation workshop, I hoped that I would be able to manifest my dreams into a reality; Land Rover defender, 5 dogs, nice designer clothes, a fancy watch, holidays and freedom, freedom from debt collectors, bailiffs and HMRC. I wanted to be in a position where we could buy our white goods outright rather than pay 5 xs the price through a bad credit line. One day, one day soon.
Hannah’s wedding was approaching - 5 days left until the big day and I still didn't have a dress. I was so excited as we were staying over. Matt and I hadn’t celebrated anything like this ever. I was excited for the dinner, drinks and being with friends even though most of them were Hannah's mates and not really mine. The hen-do had gone without a hitch other than Hannah getting so wrecked that she ended up wandering the corridors of the Ibis hotel we stayed in in just her denim jacket and no knickers on but it was brill, we’d ended up having a surprise visit by the one and only Jonny Vegas at the Manchester Comedy store. He was inebriated but nobody cared as none of us had expected he may come on, it was awesome and even Sian had been more pleasant to me than usual, I’d even seen her laugh a few times - a rare sight for such an uptight control freak. I’d had a great night out and was really excited for the wedding, it was being held in a gorgeous stately home near the Lake District, the grounds looked stunning and I was excited for the food too. I’d gotten Matt a brand new slim-fit suit from TopMan and he looked amazing in it, he was a clothes horse with his 6ft 4 skinny frame. I was going to wear a navy mini dress I’d finally decided on, with a navy wool coat as it was freezing and patent, pointed court shoes from Topshop which I’d gotten for a fiver in the sale, topped off with a gorgeous fascinator I hired from the local hat shop for more than the rest of my outfit had cost but I loved hats, and had grown up with Cilla Black on a saturday night asking many a girl if she could get her hat yet. I’d tried it all on and felt like a million dollars. We’d offered to take a couple of Hannah’s mates too, a pair of weirdos who I didn’t really like but we had a car and if the shoe was on the other foot we’d have wanted someone offering us a lift. I was excited for a fun packed couple of months; manifesting workshops with Milan, Hannah’s wedding and then the huge group yoga class Milan was hosting in the town hall in Manchester a few days before Hannah’s wedding. Milan told us she’d managed to secure this venue due to being a Lululemon ambassador, apparently we’d all get a Lululemon goody bag for attending - I was down for that and I was excited to get to know the women from Yoga a bit more. My budgeting skills had meant my Lulu collection had increased as I’d found some bargains on Ebay. The women who were going to the town hall were the regulars, not the wags but the other rich women - the wives of the professionals, they seemed to worship Milan the most with Ginger, Lizzie, Lisa and Jo the receptionists who flanked Milan at all times and a local celebrity TV star who acted in a national soap. I didn’t watch the soap. I’d attempted to but the acting was so poor I felt second hand embarrassment, I didn’t tell anyone this of course, I too chimed in and agreed at how harrowing her performance had been when she’d had to get rescued from the fire above the chippy in the fake town where it was based. She had just started turning up to the classes and I could see her slowly morphing into Milan. She’d gotten blonder highlights, started to wear more white and even her voice changed. I noticed that a lot, the women who spent time with her started to speak like her, slowing down their tone and emphasising their ‘s’s’ whilst elongating their vowels. It was weird. Milan had actually commented to me that she loved my voice as it was so calming and ‘posh’. This I found hilarious but also one of the best compliments I’d ever received.
‘Thank you, well I love yours too, it literally sends me to sleep in savasna’’
‘‘Good, that’s the point so you can then float home after a good burn and purge of the toxins’’
‘‘Ha! Yes! That’s why I come. I come to purge’’
"We all do hun, that and keeping sane right? Without yoga I’d be a mess’’
Wow. Milan seemed to say this with conviction, it didn’t seem a light hearted throw away comment but more an insight to who she really was. A far cry from the confident, stunning woman who sat cross legged in front of us like our little lotus flower sent from heaven to save us all from our crippling anxiety, depression, menopause symptoms and God knows what else.