I don’t know when in his life he would have got to experience the trauma that is a girls’ sleepover, but it seems obvious that William Golding’s classic ‘Lord of the Flies’ was originally based on a sleepover for five girls between the ages of eight and eleven. I know he tweaked the facts a bit in the novel, from memory it’s all boys and there’s some kind of plane crash or shipwreck, but other than that it all boils down to the same thing. Once children are in the majority, chaos and decadence rule until it all ends in violence of one sort or another.
I have spent the past 18 hours picking up sweet wrappers, hiding in the kitchen, conducting a conveyor-belt operation of pizzas and pancakes, begging the protagonists to drink fluids so as not to become dehydrated, unblocking the sink (prime suspect avocado face mask), bleaching the bathroom bin, making pots of tea two at a time, clearing up mugs of undrunk tea, washing up, hiding in the bedroom, picking up jelly snail sweets off the floor, confiscating wooden snails, telling children not to scream, administering ointment on scratches, telling children not to slide down bannisters, or fall stunt-like down stairs, hiding in the bathroom, pulling sticky sweets off the sole of my flip-flops, hiding in the garden and officially reading the riot act at 23.10, 24:00 and 00:50 when I went outside for a minute to hide in the car on the street.
I won’t tell you what has gone through my mind during this period of mental and aural torture but… Lord of the Flies has nothing on my house.
Apologies for any typos or grammatical errors. I have tried to edit but I am in a similar state to the unfortunate pig.