Karma and Mr K.

Karma and Mr K.

Karma and Mr K

Karma is a universal law that states basically that you reap what you sow. Not necessarily in the same life time. The trouble is we start every life with a blank slate. The consequences of what we have done in a past life impacting on our present one can be quite surprising.

Karma and Mr K

We are always born with a blank slate of course. That is the whole idea of it. It would be somehow cheating if we could bring forward all that we know. If we could remember who we were. Very inconvenient if the kitchen maid remembers being the lord and gets ideas above her station. Needs to concentrate on proper humility and washing up. Very boring, not to say depressing, if we realize we are making the same mistakes again and again. That is not always exactly true always, but it is the general rule.

Anyway here I was again, and what was I supposed to do this time? And why the devil did I decide on being female? I had had so much fun being male last time. Handsome devil, if I say so myself. Fit, dark, devilish mustache and very good with the ladies. It was after all a mans world then, no equality nonsense, women knew their place and were grateful. I had enough riches to dazzle the unwary, without the bind of large estates and having to be a useful member of society. A life almost too good to be true through. For me, at least, I doubt the legions of broken hearted females and fatherless children would say the same, to be fair. And any way there was the matter of my sticky end. But it was all worth it. So why come back again? What is it all for this time? And why on earth chose to be female? What could possibly be the fun in that?

We do chose our parents, of course, but one quick look and I realized that I should have been more careful. That is, or was, me all over, too impetuous of course. I chose my father for his genes. He had the good looks and strong constitution I enjoyed so much last time, plus a determined streak which I thought might come in useful. Miserable devil though, I overlooked that one. Mama was also a bit of a failure where I was concerned. To clever for a woman. She saw through me from the start. And she ran to fat very quickly after my birth. I will probably inherit her tendency to pay for every tidbit or gulp of ale with lard on the arse, damn it. Still we all make mistakes, and I am, or was, known for my ability of making the best out of a bad job and taking all advantages however slight.

Anyway, there I was podgy and bawling as all newborns tend to do. I think it is something to do with whack they give you. Just to be sure that your lungs are working is the cover story, but I expect they just do it for the power. Sadistic lot. I got a quick look round my future estate ha ha before the wipe out curtain came down. That is one advantage of home births you do have some idea before you start. Can tell a lot from the decor. Naff china flying ducks noooooo.

I thought, at first, I had chosen the worst possible time to be middle class and female. Time did prove me a bit wrong on that one though. But I get ahead of myself.  Anyway, in the early 50’s the girls were definitely second class citizens. Let alone ones with lard and misery in their genes.  Ha you might say, I thought you were born a blank slate, wiped clean and all that.  How could you make comparisons ? Yes well, that is the idea, but it is not always 100% effective. Sometimes there is a good reason for this, sometimes it is just careless and sometimes it just spoils everything. But there it was, the wipe out curtain had cracks in it. That this was inconvenient was putting it lightly. If I had just gone with the oblivious flow I would have had an easier time of it. But the resulting fall outs did help to make a man (or woman obviously) out of me, I will say that.

I thought that I would try and play it straight this time, having for some forgotten reason chosen the life that I did, I thought that I ought to go with it. With no wealth or privileged to get me out of trouble, I would even try and follow the rules. So head down, use inherited brain (thanks mum) and determination (thanks dad) and aspire to get out this middle class hell hole by going to university. Lardy arse even helped there. University was still then a bit of a male bastion, especially studying up until then, almost closed shop subjects, like law. As a lumpy sort of blue stocking I was not seen as competition by the golden girls and boys, and I was both ignored and underestimated. A very useful combination as it worked out.

As time went on, with growing success garnered, almost to my own surprise, by playing it absolutely straight, I almost forgot my alter ego Mr K. I relaxed into being female and actually blossomed. Then would you believe it, I actually fell in real love, not ever experienced by K, which surprised me more that it did the object of my affections.

Max was a fellow barrister in my chambers. For a clever man he was surprisingly sweet and I suppose handsome. He seemed to make a beeline for me. Mind you I had cleaned myself up a bit since my blue stocking days. The privations of my pupillage had got rid of my puppy fat and I had even discovered make up (why women torture themselves with that muck I will never know).When the money flowed in I had even brought myself decent clothes, and a flat, and did I mention a Ferrari? Anyway I suddenly became a good catch. All in all I began to enjoy this alternative female life. Perhaps, I thought, this was what I had in mind all along. A bit of a rest from all that male rampaging really.

Anyway, the wedding was lovely, the Ferrari and my flat became a house in the country. His flat was kept as a town bolt hole which we both used Monday to Friday, at least until the children came. We had our ups and downs, of course, and I think you could say that I behaved, for me, with grace, tolerance and dignity. The divorce was a terrible shock. Not only was she younger and prettier she was dumber and better at pretending to be not as clever as she actually was. Also much gushier in her praise of poor Max. Even with all my experience of having one, I found, on reflection, that I had been surprising bad at pandering to, or coping with, the male ego.

The worst thing was, as a higher earner I ended up having to pay him. Not only that but as a stay at home mum, the children preferred to be with her. I did not actually blame them for that though, as because I had been earning all the money to support them, they had become very close to the nanny, who had probably never liked me and went with him. On one level I actually enjoyed the peace and quiet.

The only thing to spoil this idyll was the fact that two households cannot live as cheaply as one. With school fees and ponies and foreign holidays all round, things became tighter than we would like. Plus there was all the extra insurance that we had to pay in case anything happened to either of us.

I was stunned again when I felt the sharp push to small of my back just as I was about to board the 7.15 from Epsom on one Monday morning. It was very subtly done by my dear Max, (or my poor  Drusilla, cruelly abandoned by Mr K as I recognized too late,) and it appeared of course as an accident, for insurance purposes  naturally. As my previous life flashed through my mind I did realise that I actually probably deserved it. But that is the thing about Karma, what goes around comes around as they say, but just not as you would always expect it.