
"Part of my kitchen floor are thick with dust, grease, part of a broken mug, a few mummified oven-chips, a desiccated used teabag and a couple of pieces of cutlery", says Sandettie Light Vessel Automatic. To most people, that's filth. To some of us, that's dinner. Tell us about squalid homes or obsessive cleaners.
( , Thu 25 Mar 2010, 13:00)
« Go Back

Meister Junior was at uni in Southampton ( the institute one, not the proper one) which was also the residence of my oldest, best friend. Rather than stay in "student accommodation", we used to arrange to stay with said best friend when visiting No 1 son. One saturday night, we'd all gone out for a pizza, when Meister Jr gets a phone call. Lots of "Hmm, yeah, whatever" conversations occur, he clicks off his phone and says. " the ceiling's fallen in!" heigh ho, we think, and finish the pizza, dropping him off and off to bed.
Sunday morning, being both parents and old, we're round there at the ungodly hour of noon. As we walk into the "Lounge" (for thus was it named) we see a large piece of ceiling in the middle of the floor, with dinner plates, covered in plaster dust, carefully left around it, half eaten meals evident for all to witness.
Meister Jr was completely nonplussed. Mrs Meister produced several kittens!
(Oh, and if the arsehole that writes to me saying "this didn't happen", every time I post does it this time, you're wrong, pal!)
(cue...........)
( , Sun 28 Mar 2010, 20:53, 1 reply)
« Go Back