Squeakers

In Scotland, we have been beset by heavy snow and freezing weather over the last few days. On Wednesday I got sent home early from work and it has been closed ever since because no-one can travel in this madness.

As a result, I have been imprisoned in my house by the snow ever since. It has not just been my little family of four though, oh no. One of the Good Lady's friends (The Janice) had popped over from Edinburgh to stay for the night on Tuesday and has been incarcerated with us ever since.

The Janice, has a child the same age as the little boom and her and the good lady have been having a whale of a time, breastfeeding, chatting about childbirth, breastfeeding some more and talking about vaginal tears.

I have been going slightly demented with the non-stop birth stories and the tsunami of breast hormones washing around the house and have taken to pacing back and forth shaking my head and making low grunting noises.

The media has been full of horror stories of people fighting in the aisles of the few supermarkets that have opened for the last loaves of bread. This at least has made me feel quite smug because I make my own and we have been feasting on the damned stuff.

It was day three of being snowbound and this morning I went to make coffee for us all.

The fridge door swung open with an eerie creak.

I stared in utter horror at what lay inside...

Or rather, what didn't.

We were out of milk.

Despite the fact that I have supplies of almost every other thing the one thing I don't have lying about is a bloody cow...

But wait?

I stomped into the living room. Before me sat two mothers with the jubblies out feeding the little babbens.

There is no milk.

I stated in a tone of dark foreboding.

Everyone looked at me in stark disbelief.

No...Milk?

Trembled the good lady.

Not a flipping drop. We are goosed.

The silence lay heavily as we all stared at each other, willing some kind of solution to pop into existence. The quiet was broken by one of the babies letting out an anguished squall.

It was The Janice's child, she shushed the little girl by sticking a boob back in her mouth.

I pulled my hand out from behind my back. In it was the electric breast pump. I looked at the good lady and then at The Janice.

My lips twitched up in a sinister smile.

Time to put them squeakers to some proper use ladies.