I always rather fancied being a vamp. It’s too late for me now; my well-upholstered bust has turned into a shelf and my kidneys prefer to be well-covered at all times.
Over the years it would seem that vamps were having all the fun. Whilst I would be at home feeding a family of 10 – along with next door’s children – stretching half a pound of mince (200g approx. in case you were wondering). In the morning you would find me up early stoking the fire and making packed lunches whilst patching up grazes; always with one eye on the clock. Vamps, however, would barely have made it back home. Parties would find vamps seductively leaning with a drink in one hand and a cigarette holder in another; holding court to a group of husbands lapping up their so witty repartee. All this whilst I would be in the back-kitchen washing up and making sure there were enough supplies to go round. A vamp would arrive in a taxi and never have to book the return journey, I would be the sensible one with a soft drink and the car keys.
You see that’s the difference between vamps and other sisters: when vamps open their fridge you will find a couple of bottles of champagne and a punnet of wild strawberries, all with the promise of a good time. When I open my fridge it holds a carton of milk, chocolate biscuits and nothing more than the expectation of a good night in front of the telly.
Over the years I have seen men disappear after vamps, some never to be seen again; some like overindulged puppies. They just do it again and again and again. They just can’t help themselves, it’s in their DNA – Bless!
Well look out vamps because as time marches on, I and other sisters are coming into our own – you have had your day. As Norah Batty once remarked “all men come to the age when they are panting for the two F’s – Feeding and First aid!” And of course that’s no problem for me and other sisters – we have been practicing all of our lives for this moment.