This afternoon T informed me that I’d better get the spare room ready because Lizzie is coming for a sleepover. They are going to watch Frozen 1 and Frozen 2 and eat lots of sweets. In the unlikely event that you’re not familiar with Frozen, it’s a movie franchise aimed at pre-teen girls in which two princesses play out the impact of an emotionally abusive childhood. One throws herself enthusiastically into the arms of a venal romance scammer. The other uses her magical powers to condemn an innocent kingdom to a perpetual winter before isolating herself in an ice palace of her own making and nearly killing her sister. It’s got a camp snowman, a dim-but-handsome love interest, a gurning reindeer, a vague and insubstantial narrative of female empowerment, and some really annoying songs. It’s T’s all-time favourite film.
But I digress. I am suspicious about this sleepover plan because it seems a long way from Lizzie’s usual choice of Friday night entertainment. She’s either heard that I’ve replenished the gin stocks or upset someone she shouldn’t have and needs to lie low for a few days. My presence is not required for this rendezvous, apart from to cook dinner and then drive Lizzie home tomorrow because she’s spent all her money and can’t afford the train. Naturally Lizzie lives in London, at a currently undisclosed address.
Dinner has proved contentious because Lizzie appears to have quite sophisticated tastes for someone who only avoids scurvy because mojitos are made with limes. Inexplicably T’s first menu suggestion was roasted sea bass. After some debate she was bartered down to a buffet so that Lizzie can choose what she likes to eat. Which is much simpler, because the only kind of buffet Lizzie is interested in involves a frozen margarita, a line of shots and a couple of Marlboro Lights.
So T and Lizzie have commandeered my comfy chair and my heated blanket and have banished me to the kitchen, from where I get summoned roughly every two minutes to provide drinks and snacks. T has requested a mocktail. Lizzie’s order? A pint of wine. I guess wine is basically grapes, so you probably only need one pint to have managed your five a day. And to be fair, if I was forced to watch both Frozen films back to back, I’m not sure one would be enough.