Chapter Fifty-Five The week went past as usual, except for the fuss about her pregnancy. It had taken everyone a while to form an impressive opinion, but towards the end of the week there had been various articles and discussions about what it meant to have a pregnant prime minister. There was nothing new, Anna Margaret felt. She was a bit tired of reading and hearing all the analyses. She had probably read all possible opinions by now. Contrary to what Isabelle had feared, there were far fewer people with an opinion about the queen at all. Whatever they might be thinking privately, it was at least not being printed. People congratulated her and rejoiced in a new national event, but none criticised her age. The prime minister, however, was fair game. Anna Margaret realised that it was hardly impressive intellectual reading to state that her pregnancy was nothing but an understandable step in her relationship and that nothing else should be made of it. There was so little that could be theorised and analysed that way. No, the focus had to be on the consequences for all women, or all of the country, or all politicians, or whatever wider angle they were taking. It was all discussed at length and by the end of the week she was fed up with it. She had not done any other interviews, because she had felt nothing could be added to the first one. There had been a few questions here and there and she had answered them, but it had mostly been more of the same. No, she was not disclosing the date and no, she did not know when she would go on leave and for how long. When she got home on Friday she found Frederick looking knocked-out on the couch. “What happened?” she asked. “Hard training happened.” “Oh. I thought you had to go somewhere.” “I did. And they asked me things. And maybe I didn’t answer right. So I when I came home I just worked out really hard to forget about it.” He closed his eyes and sighed. She tapped her fingers on the back of the couch, wondering what to do with him. Working out really hard had apparently not worked very well. “So how did you maybe not answer right?” “I didn’t answer at all,” he revealed. “Which might have been the best option, depending on the question. If it was: May I offer you my congratulations? it might have been a trifle impolite not to say thanks, but if it was Are you the father? I don’t see how anyone could expect an answer to that.” “Am I the father? Who would ask something like that?” “That guy who was outside a few days ago. So did it lean more towards the first question or towards the second?” “I can perfectly well say nothing to a question that was right in the middle. But really, there were about five different questions at once, all gradations.” “And you answered none.” “No.” “But you think you should have.” She wondered if she ought to be annoyed and she told herself not to. He was struggling with this. It would be useless to tell him to get over it. That was probably what he had always been told by everyone else. This required a more gentle approach, although she should take care not to view it too much like a project. “One or two, perhaps.” “Write them down. I’ll be in the kitchen.” She was hungry and he was not her cook. She should not become too used to the fact that often he had already made dinner when she came home. He did not say he had particular wishes with regard to dinner, so she simply took something out of the refrigerator to make that. By the time she was halfway, Frederick had dragged himself off the couch with a piece of paper. “I had to speak to children. I mean, I didn’t have to, but it was probably expected of me, and what with the news I thought everyone would be checking if I was doing that well,” he said. “And they asked you questions?” “The children didn’t, but other people did. Would I take my child there later, and so forth.” “Would you? What was it anyway?” “I don’t think so. It was a type of special day care.” “Why were you there?” “It was actually Isabelle’s thing, but she handed it to me a while ago because she had too much to do or because she disagreed with the philosophy behind the institution. I didn’t think much of it when I agreed to do it. But this week it’s all different.” And, presumably, he could not always pick and choose anyway, or his outings would be extremely limited. Anna Margaret nodded. He had to say yes sometimes, if Isabelle asked especially. “And they asked you if your child was likely to go there?” “You know how it goes. They have a few journalists who keep asking questions while you’re trying to do something else. Could I change a baby’s nappy for them, please?” She burst out laughing. “Oh no.” “So…” “They would have been really surprised if you had done it.” And she deduced that he had not. Frederick grimaced. “I’ll do my own child’s, no problem, but not in public. And definitely not some strange child’s.” “Of course.” “But I should have said something like that. A lot of good things occurred to me later, but at that moment I was just thinking: what? I was already thinking that all the time anyway. It was like a boarding school for babies. And then there were people saying If your wife goes on a visit to Asia or America, she can bring the baby here!” “What? indeed,” Anna Margaret agreed. “What else could I do? Obviously husbands don’t count.” “And tomorrow I have to go to a farm.” She had known he had to go somewhere, but she had not known it was a farm. It would be better than a boarding school for babies, but she could not help thinking of calves being born and people comparing them to her giving birth. She shuddered. “The things they could trouble you with on a farm. At least cows won’t talk. Should I come?” “Not if you want to see cows.” “There won’t be cows?” Although she was not a country girl, she was educated and she knew a bit about farms, yet she mainly associated them with cows for some reason. “Other animals that might give birth then?” “Crops.” “Those don’t talk either. But let me know in time.” “Yes.” “Yes, you’ll let me know, or yes, you want me to come?” “The second.” He grinned. She grinned back. It was an automatic response. Her mind was not quite in agreement. “I have to warn you, I am fed up with ‘having particular meaning’ to specific subsections of mankind. I am being appointed poster girl left and right. Or so it feels anyway. It’s not being appointed that annoys me; it’s the expectations of what I’ll do because of it. Does it make sense? I don’t want to be pigeonholed.” “Oh. I don’t know how you could be appropriated for any cause on a farm, but I see what you mean. And the farm is not ecological, so it’s safe in that respect.” “And if there are only crops, my part-time vegetarianism is safe,” Anna Margaret said, placing a piece of meat on each of their plates. “Although I’m not sure many people know about it anyway. But what I meant was that I might respond rather strongly to people trying to pigeonhole me.” “I don’t care, as long as I don’t have to say anything.” She could say something about that, but she did not. “But what I mean, I suppose, is that there was so little about me-me. It was all simply a reason to write analyses and there have been lots.” “You mean there is nothing about how adorable we are as a couple and what a wonderful baby we shall have?” “That.” She gave it an affirmative gesture with a spoon. “Although it’s unwise to say that about yourself, but yes, it’s all on the macro-level, not micro. Not that I want them to pry and I realise we provide little information, but in that case: stay silent. If you know nothing, say nothing.” “It will pass.” “I know. I wonder why your role has been completely ignored so far. It’s all she has no time for a baby and what will she do with it and what will this mean to young women?” “Young women should never trust only two methods of contraception,” Frederick said gravely. “I know, I know, that is really a more valuable lesson than someone in a totally different type of job making quite specific and non-transferable arrangements at work. But this is a déjà-vu,” she realised. “It is? You have been pregnant before?” She pulled a face. “No, of course not. This is just like me talking very seriously about the documents you had to sign and you looking at the chandelier not giving a damn.” It gave one a rather helpless feeling. “I do give a damn here,” he protested. “And I distilled a very serious lesson from it all. For the benefit of young women all over the country. And young men, if you wish to be equal.” She looked at him. “But you’re right,” he conceded. “You’re approaching this with the same sort of single-minded zeal. Which is very admirable, but I do it in other areas.” “True.” “Luckily.” “True.” For a while he concentrated on his dinner. “Why do you need to know in time whether you’re coming to the farm? Do you need to read up on farms or buy clothes?” “It’s a clothes issue,” she admitted, although she was not going to buy anything. “Brushing up my knowledge of farms hadn’t actually occurred to me. But you can’t tell me we’re leaving in five seconds when I haven’t yet located my old boots.” She glanced at the window. It was dark, but she could see drops of rain on the glass. Boots were definitely required. “Queens visit farms in high heels.” “Does your sister?” “Yes.” “Why?” she cried. “I’ve asked her that. Not about farms specifically, but there are other situations in which high heels are silly. We do not see eye to eye when it comes to clothing.” “What will you be doing at this farm?” “I haven’t got the slightest idea.” “It does help,” she advised, “to inquire beforehand if you want to be able to say something.” She liked to be prepared herself and she could not see any disadvantages. “But I don’t.” “Still, you know they don’t have cows, so you must know something.” “Yes, I do know something.” “There,” she said triumphantly. “And I am really pretty sure you could talk to this farmer on your own.” But it would be nicer if she did it. She could understand that in a way, but if she did not think it would gradually improve if she helped, she would not interfere. “I’m sure they selected someone who doesn’t need an interpreter.” “Argh! You know that is not what I meant!” “Well, if it was just about farming, I could! I just don’t like all the other things.”https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125158#msg-125158Mon, 25 May 2026 07:04:30 +0100 Phorum 5.2.22 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,126678#msg-126678 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,126678#msg-126678May we list your stories on JAFF Index? Blanket permission to list all the stories would be ideal.
If not, giving permission for individual stories you want more people to read would be fine.
Remember that at anytime, you may revoke your permission by writing to admin AT jaffindex DOT com. Or log into the Index and send your message by clicking on "Suggestions and Messages".
***
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JAFF Index logins are per the fanfiction sites, not individuals.
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Regards,
M :)]]> M U A Novel IdeaThu, 26 Oct 2017 15:10:56 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125292#msg-125292 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125292#msg-125292 Lydia A Novel IdeaSat, 29 Apr 2017 16:28:36 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125262#msg-125262 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125262#msg-125262
]]> Lise A Novel IdeaThu, 27 Apr 2017 14:07:51 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125261#msg-125261 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125261#msg-125261 Nicki A Novel IdeaThu, 27 Apr 2017 13:49:31 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125258#msg-125258 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125258#msg-125258 Lise A Novel IdeaThu, 27 Apr 2017 13:10:59 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125250#msg-125250 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125250#msg-125250
I didn't get that either, until I added UK to my Maxima query in google. Then I got.....cars.

My google is apparently set to give me Dutch sites first. And then I get Maxima the queen. No cars in sight.

I wonder what you get if you use Maxima and NL. Will she overrule the cars then?]]> Lise A Novel IdeaWed, 26 Apr 2017 11:10:24 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125249#msg-125249 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125249#msg-125249Yes, my prejudices are hanging out. I had a scholarship to a posh school and mixed with both and the most snobbish were the nouveaus. the real squirearchy were, like Frederick, decent, ordinary, nice people. Though the best excuse for being tardy to classes has to have been "Sorry I'm late, I had my hand up a sheep."]]> Sarah Waldock A Novel IdeaWed, 26 Apr 2017 11:03:56 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125248#msg-125248 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125248#msg-125248 Sarah Waldock A Novel IdeaWed, 26 Apr 2017 10:58:17 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125247#msg-125247 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125247#msg-125247 Sarah Waldock A Novel IdeaWed, 26 Apr 2017 10:55:51 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125222#msg-125222 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125222#msg-125222
Looks like Anna Margaret and Frederick have a wide range of options to choose from.]]> Nicki A Novel IdeaMon, 24 Apr 2017 16:10:02 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125187#msg-125187 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125187#msg-125187


and (though I guess with so little 'shoe' touching the ground you can't actually step in anything dirty)



although our neighbours seem to get it more



and our retired queen, of whom I also saw photos in high heels on a farm before retirement

]]> Lise A Novel IdeaFri, 21 Apr 2017 11:12:16 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125185#msg-125185 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125185#msg-125185Here's a pic of them on a farm. Or maybe the Duchess of Cambridge and Prince George? But it's true that our royal family are very outdoors-y people so maybe they can't be fairly used as examples.]]> Nicki A Novel IdeaFri, 21 Apr 2017 10:29:17 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125181#msg-125181 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125181#msg-125181
Didn't google QE2 - not representative when it comes to clothing b/c of age. Also they are 60 years behind when it comes to children's clothing but that is another matter :-)]]> Lise A Novel IdeaFri, 21 Apr 2017 06:00:30 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125179#msg-125179 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125179#msg-125179 Lise A Novel IdeaFri, 21 Apr 2017 05:44:10 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125169#msg-125169 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125169#msg-125169 Lily A Novel IdeaThu, 20 Apr 2017 22:22:39 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125166#msg-125166 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125166#msg-125166 Sarah Waldock A Novel IdeaThu, 20 Apr 2017 20:59:53 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125158#msg-125158 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?6,125158,125158#msg-125158
Chapter Fifty-Five

---

The week went past as usual, except for the fuss about her pregnancy. It had taken everyone a while to form an impressive opinion, but towards the end of the week there had been various articles and discussions about what it meant to have a pregnant prime minister. There was nothing new, Anna Margaret felt. She was a bit tired of reading and hearing all the analyses.

She had probably read all possible opinions by now. Contrary to what Isabelle had feared, there were far fewer people with an opinion about the queen at all. Whatever they might be thinking privately, it was at least not being printed. People congratulated her and rejoiced in a new national event, but none criticised her age.

The prime minister, however, was fair game. Anna Margaret realised that it was hardly impressive intellectual reading to state that her pregnancy was nothing but an understandable step in her relationship and that nothing else should be made of it. There was so little that could be theorised and analysed that way. No, the focus had to be on the consequences for all women, or all of the country, or all politicians, or whatever wider angle they were taking. It was all discussed at length and by the end of the week she was fed up with it.

She had not done any other interviews, because she had felt nothing could be added to the first one. There had been a few questions here and there and she had answered them, but it had mostly been more of the same. No, she was not disclosing the date and no, she did not know when she would go on leave and for how long.

When she got home on Friday she found Frederick looking knocked-out on the couch. “What happened?” she asked.

“Hard training happened.”

“Oh. I thought you had to go somewhere.”

“I did. And they asked me things. And maybe I didn’t answer right. So I when I came home I just worked out really hard to forget about it.” He closed his eyes and sighed.

She tapped her fingers on the back of the couch, wondering what to do with him. Working out really hard had apparently not worked very well. “So how did you maybe not answer right?”

“I didn’t answer at all,” he revealed.

“Which might have been the best option, depending on the question. If it was: May I offer you my congratulations? it might have been a trifle impolite not to say thanks, but if it was Are you the father? I don’t see how anyone could expect an answer to that.”

“Am I the father? Who would ask something like that?”

“That guy who was outside a few days ago. So did it lean more towards the first question or towards the second?”

“I can perfectly well say nothing to a question that was right in the middle. But really, there were about five different questions at once, all gradations.”

“And you answered none.”

“No.”

“But you think you should have.” She wondered if she ought to be annoyed and she told herself not to. He was struggling with this. It would be useless to tell him to get over it. That was probably what he had always been told by everyone else. This required a more gentle approach, although she should take care not to view it too much like a project.

“One or two, perhaps.”

“Write them down. I’ll be in the kitchen.” She was hungry and he was not her cook. She should not become too used to the fact that often he had already made dinner when she came home.

He did not say he had particular wishes with regard to dinner, so she simply took something out of the refrigerator to make that. By the time she was halfway, Frederick had dragged himself off the couch with a piece of paper.

“I had to speak to children. I mean, I didn’t have to, but it was probably expected of me, and what with the news I thought everyone would be checking if I was doing that well,” he said.

“And they asked you questions?”

“The children didn’t, but other people did. Would I take my child there later, and so forth.”

“Would you? What was it anyway?”

“I don’t think so. It was a type of special day care.”

“Why were you there?”

“It was actually Isabelle’s thing, but she handed it to me a while ago because she had too much to do or because she disagreed with the philosophy behind the institution. I didn’t think much of it when I agreed to do it. But this week it’s all different.”

And, presumably, he could not always pick and choose anyway, or his outings would be extremely limited. Anna Margaret nodded. He had to say yes sometimes, if Isabelle asked especially. “And they asked you if your child was likely to go there?”

“You know how it goes. They have a few journalists who keep asking questions while you’re trying to do something else. Could I change a baby’s nappy for them, please?”

She burst out laughing. “Oh no.”

“So…”

“They would have been really surprised if you had done it.” And she deduced that he had not.

Frederick grimaced. “I’ll do my own child’s, no problem, but not in public. And definitely not some strange child’s.”

“Of course.”

“But I should have said something like that. A lot of good things occurred to me later, but at that moment I was just thinking: what? I was already thinking that all the time anyway. It was like a boarding school for babies. And then there were people saying If your wife goes on a visit to Asia or America, she can bring the baby here!”

“What? indeed,” Anna Margaret agreed. “What else could I do? Obviously husbands don’t count.”

“And tomorrow I have to go to a farm.”

She had known he had to go somewhere, but she had not known it was a farm. It would be better than a boarding school for babies, but she could not help thinking of calves being born and people comparing them to her giving birth. She shuddered. “The things they could trouble you with on a farm. At least cows won’t talk. Should I come?”

“Not if you want to see cows.”

“There won’t be cows?” Although she was not a country girl, she was educated and she knew a bit about farms, yet she mainly associated them with cows for some reason. “Other animals that might give birth then?”

“Crops.”

“Those don’t talk either. But let me know in time.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you’ll let me know, or yes, you want me to come?”

“The second.” He grinned.

She grinned back. It was an automatic response. Her mind was not quite in agreement. “I have to warn you, I am fed up with ‘having particular meaning’ to specific subsections of mankind. I am being appointed poster girl left and right. Or so it feels anyway. It’s not being appointed that annoys me; it’s the expectations of what I’ll do because of it. Does it make sense? I don’t want to be pigeonholed.”

“Oh. I don’t know how you could be appropriated for any cause on a farm, but I see what you mean. And the farm is not ecological, so it’s safe in that respect.”

“And if there are only crops, my part-time vegetarianism is safe,” Anna Margaret said, placing a piece of meat on each of their plates. “Although I’m not sure many people know about it anyway. But what I meant was that I might respond rather strongly to people trying to pigeonhole me.”

“I don’t care, as long as I don’t have to say anything.”

She could say something about that, but she did not. “But what I mean, I suppose, is that there was so little about me-me. It was all simply a reason to write analyses and there have been lots.”

“You mean there is nothing about how adorable we are as a couple and what a wonderful baby we shall have?”

“That.” She gave it an affirmative gesture with a spoon. “Although it’s unwise to say that about yourself, but yes, it’s all on the macro-level, not micro. Not that I want them to pry and I realise we provide little information, but in that case: stay silent. If you know nothing, say nothing.”

“It will pass.”

“I know. I wonder why your role has been completely ignored so far. It’s all she has no time for a baby and what will she do with it and what will this mean to young women?”

“Young women should never trust only two methods of contraception,” Frederick said gravely.

“I know, I know, that is really a more valuable lesson than someone in a totally different type of job making quite specific and non-transferable arrangements at work. But this is a déjà-vu,” she realised.

“It is? You have been pregnant before?”

She pulled a face. “No, of course not. This is just like me talking very seriously about the documents you had to sign and you looking at the chandelier not giving a damn.” It gave one a rather helpless feeling.

“I do give a damn here,” he protested. “And I distilled a very serious lesson from it all. For the benefit of young women all over the country. And young men, if you wish to be equal.”

She looked at him.

“But you’re right,” he conceded. “You’re approaching this with the same sort of single-minded zeal. Which is very admirable, but I do it in other areas.”

“True.”

“Luckily.”

“True.”

For a while he concentrated on his dinner. “Why do you need to know in time whether you’re coming to the farm? Do you need to read up on farms or buy clothes?”

“It’s a clothes issue,” she admitted, although she was not going to buy anything. “Brushing up my knowledge of farms hadn’t actually occurred to me. But you can’t tell me we’re leaving in five seconds when I haven’t yet located my old boots.” She glanced at the window. It was dark, but she could see drops of rain on the glass. Boots were definitely required.

“Queens visit farms in high heels.”

“Does your sister?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” she cried.

“I’ve asked her that. Not about farms specifically, but there are other situations in which high heels are silly. We do not see eye to eye when it comes to clothing.”

“What will you be doing at this farm?”

“I haven’t got the slightest idea.”

“It does help,” she advised, “to inquire beforehand if you want to be able to say something.” She liked to be prepared herself and she could not see any disadvantages.

“But I don’t.”

“Still, you know they don’t have cows, so you must know something.”

“Yes, I do know something.”

“There,” she said triumphantly. “And I am really pretty sure you could talk to this farmer on your own.” But it would be nicer if she did it. She could understand that in a way, but if she did not think it would gradually improve if she helped, she would not interfere.

“I’m sure they selected someone who doesn’t need an interpreter.”

“Argh! You know that is not what I meant!”

“Well, if it was just about farming, I could! I just don’t like all the other things.”]]> Lise A Novel IdeaThu, 20 Apr 2017 13:12:00 +0100