Mastermind

Someone has asked me what my specialist subject would be if I were a Mastermind contestant. Initially I thought, ‘Oo that’s a good one.’ Then it depressingly dawned on me that I don’t have one. There isn’t a single thing that I could claim to know about in detail enough to confidently face an inquisition. I know well why this is so, as I sit on my bed with my current read spreadeagled on the duvet next to me. I’m typing this between checking my various forums and facebook pages, making sure that the kids are occupied and conversing with the other half on Skype. In the back of my mind I’m working on convincing myself that I should get in the shower, as I’m expecting a furniture delivery at any time. When I finally do get ready, I’ll be throwing clothes downstairs for the kids at the same time, and making beds and opening curtains. I’ll probably then take my laptop downstairs so that I can periodically check it or type up new ideas, whilst ironing and catching up on some of the recorded dramas on my V+ box (this queue of unwatched programmes is a constant source of stress, which reaches a crescendo after a holiday. You can only imagine the military precision of the catch-up regime after our three-week summer break!). Then I’ll be no doubt texting around various mothers, trying to organize a cinema excursion for this afternoon, whilst attempting to put together what will no doubt turn out to be a flat-packed dining table. Meals will have to be inserted somewhere into the schedule, and there’s always the possibility of mowing the lawn if the weather stays dry and the grass has dried out from yesterday’s deluge. My husband’s specialist subject would be ‘show control in entertainment environments’, as this is what he does all day every day. But mine? How to keep as many balls in the air as possible. And I’d lose.