Carol’s Column

Oh ring where is thy ding a ling a ling?

WHEN Alexander Graham Bell invented the phone, he was not thinking of the sanity of the several million working mothers throughout the world.

Take a typical day.

You arrive at the office, fresh and smiling after having sewn up your son's split pants, taken the dog to the vet because the neighbour's dog has herpes, unblocked the toilet and run out of petrol on the M1 because you forgot to fill up.

Lukewarm

You sit down at your desk. As you're stretching for the cup of lukewarm tea — the urn hasn't boiled yet — it's only 8am and you're there an hour before everyone else because you did the school lift scheme at 7.30am, the phone rings.

“Sunday Express Living.”

“Good morning, may I have transport?”

“This is not transport, this is features.”

“Rubbish, I dialled transport. Let me speak to Daniel.”

I look for Daniel under the desk. “Sorry, this is still features and Daniel is not here.”

Bang. My eardrum is almost shattered.

Aah, the tea.

Ring: “Sunday Express Living.”

“Hello, is that the Sunday Times?”

“No, this is the Sunday Express. Can I help you?”

“Never mind, you'll do. I've got a brilliant story for you.”

My adrenalin starts flowing, my pen is poised in my hand.

“It's our nursery school jumble sale. We've got the most amazing things here. I thought you could bring a photographer and do a story.”

“Hold on please and I'll put you through to the Times.”

Ring: “Sunday Express Living.”

“Hello, is that Carol Lazar speaking?”

“Yes, can I help you?”

“Chick! Have I got a scoop for you. It's a special drain cleaner — you've never seen anything like it.”

“Excuse me, Sir, I am not a chick, I am a mother of four and I think your drain cleaner belongs in Home Improvement. Let me transfer you.”

“Thanks, Chick.”

Ring: “Sunday Express Living.”

“Hello, can I speak to Carol Lazar?”

“This is Carol speaking.”

“Oh, hello Carol, this is Bruce People from Overactive Promotions. Did you receive our invitation to the Happy Dog Chunky Meat Ball Breakfast?”

“Yes thank you so much, but unfortunately I won't be able to attend. It's on a production day.”

“But it will only take three hours.”

“I'm so sorry. It's out of the question. Could you please send me a Press kit instead?”

Ring: “Sunday Express Living.”

“Hello, can you help me please? It's about an article which appeared in Living.”

“Yes certainly.”

“Well, it appeared in July 1981 or was it June? I really can't remember, it was a story about a cat farm with thatched roofs.”

“Madam, can I have your name and number, I'll look up the files and ring back.”

Ring: “Sunday Express Living.”

“Hello, is that Carol?”

“Speaking.”

“I want to tell you I think your column is the most unadulterated dribble I've ever read. Your dogs are crazy. Your goldfish is crazy and you're crazy. I read it every week and it makes me mad.”

“Excuse me, to whom am I speaking?”

“It doesn't matter. And as for that cartoon of you on a desert island last week, it was pornographic!”

“Thank you so much, Sir. Please call again.”

Recipes

Ring: “Sunday Express Living.”

“Hello, I know this sounds silly, but we're a group of women who meet once a week for a baking session. We've been doing recipes from a book called The Great Australian Biscuit, and we can't interpret one ingredient ...”

Ring: “Sunday Express Living.”

“Mrs Lazar, this is Rosebank School. Don't worry, Nicky's fine, but she's come out in a rash and there's a lot of chicken pox around.”

“I'll be there in 10 minutes!”

Nicky has not got chicken pox. She has a rash from eating unripe mulberries. I tuck her into bed with a kiss and a book and fly back to work.

Ring: “Sunday Express Living.”

“Carol, I just love your column. It makes me laugh every Sunday. I'm 95 but still enjoy a good giggle. Why I remember in 1928 when ...”

Ring: “Sunday Express Living.”

“Ma, this is Jamie, I've just come home from school, can I bake a cake?”

“No, you can't bake a cake, do your homework.”

Ring: “Sunday Express Living.”

“Carol, I've got a wonderful story for you. It's about my plastic surgeon. He does the most incredible face lifts and he does them at a discount rate! I thought it would make a fantastic story!”

“It would, but unfortunately the Medical Council might object and regard it as touting.”

Ring: “Sunday Express Living.”

“Mummy, this is Nicky, I need a geometry set.”

“Are you feeling fine? Don't worry, I'll pop out and fetch it.”

Ring: “Sunday Express Living.”

“Can you help me, please. I've lost our little doggie. She's 17 years old and blind.”

Ring: “Sunday Express Living.”

“Ma, hi, it's Ralph.”

“Hello Ralph.”

“It's hailing badly here, the roof's leaking and I've unplugged the gutter but the hail's still getting in. Don't worry though, I've put plastic on everything.”

“Great, thanks Ralph.”

“Oh, and Ma, Jamie's making gas balloons with petrol and a plastic bag.”

“Let me speak to Jamie immediately.”

“Hello, Ma, it's Jamie.”

“Jamie stop making gas balloons immediately. It's very math. It's dangerous. You could blow yourself up.”

The phone doesn't stop ringing.

I stagger home at 6pm.

My husband is stretched out in his favourite chair (the only one without bent springs), beer in hand, reading the newspaper.

The phone rings.

“Won't you answer?” he says. “I've had a hell of a day at the office.”

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