Here we go again, Friends – yet another picture of the bin tipped over on the kitchen floor. Really, it’s the same old thing over and over again, and I do wish She would find a more interesting picture for my blog. Even a picture of the Bastard Swans would make a nice change.
There was an unfortunate incident with the bin last Friday evening but it wasn’t my fault at all. Firstly She had forgotten to put the bin outside the back door before going to work early in the morning so it was her fault. Secondly, Young Lad came home from school and went out again without noticing that the bin was still in the kitchen, or shutting the kitchen door, so it was his fault. It totally wasn’t mine and I had no choice but to tip the very full bin over and drag the contents through the house. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – Empty. The. Bin. More. Often.
The last time the house was trashed with kitchen rubbish, if you remember, I found a tomato passata carton and ripped it up over the beige lounge carpet. This time it was an empty packet that once contained frozen blueberries, so now there were large purple splodges to accompany the orange ones. It gave a retro 1970s feel to the carpet and made it far more attractive if you ask me.
She was incredibly tetchy on returning from a long day at work after a long week at work, and finding She had to get the Dr Beckmann’s stain remover out yet again before pyjamas and Gordon time. I don’t feel it required quite the amount of shouting and moaning that I had to endure.
In other news – and I know many of you have been eager to hear this – Lad made it to university and has stayed there. It didn’t go entirely smoothly (nothing ever does here) as early on the Saturday morning when She took Lad his final cup of tea at home for a long time, Lad was already sitting up in bed looking aghast. It turned out, Readers, that he had received an early email from the university saying that he had been moved to a different room and no longer had an ensuite bathroom. This was appalling. Lad simply could NOT share bathroom facilities with anyone – Friends, he COULD NOT and WOULD NOT sit on a toilet seat that someone else had sat on. Poor, poor Lad. There were some tense moments during which She wondered if he was actually going to refuse to go to university due to the lack of an ensuite and so they would have to unpack the roofbox, and it didn’t really help saying “for the love of God we had to share bedrooms back in my day never mind the bathroom…” This was of no comfort to poor Lad who felt strongly that he needed a bathroom in which he could take his time and have sole use.
Finally Lad was persuaded to stop being so bldy precious and get in the bldy car, and off they went.
Lad has had such a nice time ever since that he has completely forgotten about his early objection to sharing a bathroom and it doesn’t seem important any more. Lad has also found a nice flatmate who can cook; indeed he made Lad sea bass and asparagus with crushed new potatoes for his birthday lunch. I think Lad will be fine. I do miss him though, and occasionally go into his bedroom for a look round.
Young Lad doesn’t appear to be missing Lad much and has remarked on how peaceful it is here of an evening. Young Lad has been – very gradually – settling back into school after six months off and is being told every five minutes that he needs to up his game. I’m little disappointed on the Food Technology GCSE front, as due to coronavirus the pupils are not able to cook at school. This means they are doing a lot more theory and any practical work has to be done at home. So far there has just been the one dish – a Jamie Oliver pasta thing with rocket and tomatoes – and I wasn’t offered any of it. Not a sniff.
I have, however, managed to steal Young Lad’s toast a couple of times in the mornings, and also an entire bowl of Shreddies as I grabbed the bowl when he wasn’t looking and ran off with it. Young Lad and I have an understanding about these things.
Readers, I’ve had a wonderful couple of weeks because now that Lad is no longer here, I cannot be left on my own during the day when everyone is at work or school. This means that every day I go to doggy daycare at dear, dear Ebony’s house or – and this was the first time for SEVEN months – dear, dear Pippa’s house. Oh it was wonderful to be back amongst people who give a damn about me and allow, nay encourage, me to have the best armchair for the day. It’s such a wrench to come back here at the end of the day. Tomorrow I’m going to dear Pippa’s again, and I know for a fact that she will be very pleased to see me.
I’m slightly worried that should the coronavirus rate keep rising there will be some sort of lockdown again, which means I might have to stop going to doggy daycare – but She says no bldy chance as bldy keyworkers have to go to work regardless – really. This is hardly the spirit in these difficult times and I do feel a little less feeling sorry for oneself is in order.
Readers I’m exhausted after another tough day, and the highly exciting meal of jacket potatoes and baked beans is ready for Young Lad, so I must bring my blog to a close. I feel Lad should stay where he is for a long time, in terms of quality of cuisine.
Hope you are well Friends and staying safe.
See you soon.