Second Helpings

Whose Home is it Anyway?

When we first moved to this house over twenty-five years ago, I was deluded enough to think of it as a fresh start and my chance to create a show home. Hubby dumped boxes of junk in the garage, shed and loft with the promise he’d sort it all out later, but to date I’m still waiting.

In the meantime, kids, pets, parents, grandkids, work, subsidence, climate change and the price of carrots has ensured I never did get round to turning my humble home into a palace. Add to the fact my friends believe I have an obsession about ducks and insist on bombarding me with every available fluffy, fuzzy, rubber, pot or porcelain variety available and the classy, ideal home I envisaged has become a mere joke.

So, over the years I’ve given up hope of my dream home and made do with the bizarre hotchpotch of fittings and furniture I now take for granted. The only consolation is that being an organized person at least things tended to be in the rooms you’d expect them to be in. Until today.

Amidst all the chaos and activity of my dysfunctional life of late, today the long awaited plumber decided to arrive to fit our new bathroom suite. With the water supply turned off and pandemonium in all directions it was some relief to be able to visit bogs in supermarkets, hospitals and friend’s houses.

The thing is when we arranged our annual summer party for next Saturday we had no idea my Mum was going to pass away, my Dad was going to be in hospital, my grandson was going to arrive five weeks early or the plumber was going to start hacking the place to pieces.

So, if anyone plans on coming to our bash please take on board the following. Be careful as you walk up the drive; it’s still only half paved and you could fall down a pothole if you arrive after dark. If you need to stay overnight that’s fine as long as you don’t mind sleeping on the floor. The bathroom floor may be your best option as there’s nothing in there but pipes, although it may smell of wet plaster and grout.

If you need any medicines they’ll be in the cabinet on son’s old bedroom floor. Don’t trip over the basket of shampoos, deodorants and bubble bath or be disturbed at the number of homeless and confused ducks in there. The soap and towels are in our bedroom and the toothpaste and toothbrushes are in the kitchen. Please excuse the piles of Paul and Mey Ling’s laundry all over the kitchen table; they really can’t cope with it all and after all, we have so much spare time on our hands. If you fancy ironing a few little girl’s clothes and tiny baby outfits from the overflowing laundry basket in passing, then thanks very much. Oh and Dad’s laundry is in the washing machine if you fancy pegging it out to dry.

At least the booze is in the right cupboard and the new bog is in working order. Thank goodness for small mercies. I’m of the opinion I’ll never own a show home but at least our parties are always interesting to say the least.