I wish I was a vicars wife
Or at least how I imagine one to be
With a little floral pinny
And an endless pot of tea
I’d sit on all the committees
And smile benevolently
And every year I’d win first prize
For my quince and courgette chutney
I’d have sensible hair and angelic kids, and I’d never once say Fuck in public
I’d polish my staunch moral code til it shone, while basking in all things domestic
I’d day dream of ways in which one could save the hopeless and hellbound heretic
And I’d smile and I’d sigh and I’d feel sorely blessed, for a life so damn near to perfect.
Oh I wish I was a vicars wife
At least how I imagine one to be
With my ladylike glass of something
At the vicars party tea.
I’d just drink on special occasions
My limit would be three
And I’d go home with all my pride in tact
Plus my knickers still where they should be.
I’d never obsess about how to get paraletic with nobody knowing
Wouldn’t hide in my house with the phone off the hook, before passing out full of self loathing
Wouldn’t drink wine for breakfast and not go to work, always terrified of facing others
And I wouldn’t drive straight into lorries, damn near robbing my kids of a mother.
Or indeed robbing us of your intelligence and wit. Best of luck and best wishes.
Thank you Steve. x
Sometimes it takes something that bloody scary to do something about it. Thinking about you, and rooting for you to sort this out. Much love, x
Thanks Notsupermum. The only way is up. x
Very dark poem but powerful so you hit the mark. Have a wonderful festive season. Emma x
And you Emma. x
There’s a brilliant blog you should read. It’s called Adventures of a Middle-Aged Matron, and is written by a vicar’s wife. It’s hilarious.
Happy Boxing Day7!
Yes I really love that blog! Although I’m slightly afraid Ms Tims may now want to come and punch me in the nose…
I don’t want you to be a vicar’s wife. I want you to be you—a happy, contented, healthy and sober you. And you will be! xx
That’s what I’m going for. It’s what I want. Thank you for commenting – lots of love. xxx
Vicar’s wives are probably more fucked up than anything you can imagine.
Ha! Who knows eh? We all have our secret sides…
I’m sorry to read the pain behind this. Vicar’s wifedom might not be the safe refuge you suppose, though. Am still recovering from the business of the elderly lay reader and the nipple tassles and the horde of knitted breasts in the vestry. And now someone’s been nicking from the collection plates!!
Oh I used to knit breasts for the local breastfeeding support group! They are slightly unnerving to be sure. x
God, I’m glad you’re OK. And back. And still OK?
Yes I’m good thank you. Just back from treatment and doing well. x