I’d just got rid of the untrained mother’s help whom I’d carefully chosen over six others, who not only picked up a lorry driver for sex in the cab at the end of our road and secretly fed my son tinned potatoes, but rifled through my clothing, proving highly selective in her thefts. I remember being absurdly annoyed that she had ignored the M&S briefs and stolen only the silk cami-knickers with matching bras. Who did she think she was to be so fussy? She had no designs on my husband — indeed, he would have run ten miles. But a friend of ours went into the loo next to his study one evening (the wife being out) to find the nanny sitting there totally naked. “Gosh, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, rushing out. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind,” she called. He locked his study door.
Jul 20, 2005
Bel Mooney on the blogging nanny, Jude Law and the nanny and her own personal experiences.