Writing letters (that will never actually be sent...)

Husband,

I owe you an apology.

You see I’ve been accusing you (in my mind) of becoming increasingly annoying. The crime? Leaving the toilet seat up more often than you used to. In fact, it’s obvious that these days you NEVER put it down. Ever.

It is something that I find intensely annoying. Not just because I have to put it down to use it, but because whenever I see it up I HAVE to put it down. It’s THAT offensive to me. And because the bathroom is right at the top of the stairs, whenever I come upstairs, it’s there – glaring at me, taunting me, revolting me. Annoying me.

I have been wondering why you have started doing this more than you used to. For a while I decided it was all part of the “Well we’ve been married for 25 years so she isn’t going to leave me now”, routine. (Don’t be so sure).

But this morning, I understood! I realised! It was obvious!! I’ve been a fool!!!

It’s because it’s just you and me now – and I don’t mean that now the kids have gone you think you don't need to make as much of an effort. It’s because when they were living here THEY were also putting the seat down when they used it (or when they saw that it had been left up). Three more people walking past, using it, and putting it down meant that I simply didn’t know it was left up as much as it was.

So, I apologise for THINKING that you were doing it more often, just to annoy me. I suppose it’s balanced out though by me giving you the benefit of the doubt over the urine on the bathroom wall, radiator and (God knows how) the back of the door. I can only assume you have had some sort of spray attachment fitted – like those you get in garden centres to go on hoses. While there were other males (resident and transient) in the house, I could always partially blame them (again, in my mind).

Now, I know.

Wendy
(PS – please put your bloody Christmas presents away. It is now February.)


Eldest Daughter (by about a minute),

I thank you.

Not only for your efforts in replacing the toilet seat and lid, but for answers to so many unanswered questions.

Yes – I have been in your room – or rather – what WAS your room. Blimey!

No wonder the earth’s resources are low and we have to recycle. There’s so much ‘stuff’ in your room, that I don’t really know where to start.

Perhaps coat-hangers is as good a place as any to start? 34 of them to be precise. Amazing. I have no idea where I am going to put them all!

Socks. I wonder if you remember all those times I asked you to check through your room to see if you had any of the “missing” socks? All those times you told me you had checked, but no – you didn’t have any? Well, I’ve been keeping that bag of odd socks for about 5 years or so – and last week I came to the conclusion that they must have been consumed somehow by washing machines or tumble dryers. I threw them away.

Total sock count? 61 – Hang on though – there were two more (not a pair) in a cardboard box I was going to put out for recycling. 63 then. About 40 of these were mine.

Then there is all the other stuff: A traffic cone. Please collect this – I really don’t want it. Missing dishes, glasses, plates, umbrellas, mugs, spoons, and so on, have now resurfaced. There are pens, pencils and birthday cards (unused) that look vaguely familiar. Some of my books that I have been looking for. Beads, buttons, needles, cotton, string, shoe-laces, plasters, paracetamol, lighters. Enough leads, cables, wires etc. to set up a small shop. Oh – and if your staple remover is a bit bent – it’s because I trod on it. DVDs and CDs not in their boxes, and empty DVD and CD boxes – but curiously they don’t match up (so no mystery solved there!) I am assuming you will be taking your giant ant at some point – or is it a wasp or a grasshopper?

Then there are all the weird objects that I can’t identify!

So many of these things are really small. I think it was sifting through these that took me back to the much younger you (probably because so many of these look like toys – and probably are parts of toys - if you have stopped eating Kinder Eggs they will have noticed a drop in their profits). You have always had a fascination for really tiny things! I guess it’s all part of your personality and what makes you, you. When these things have all gone, it will be strange (and SO much tidier) and I do pity anyone who shares your space in the future!! But I will miss you. I miss all of you – I just didn’t realise till now, sitting here on my own, writing my sad little blog because there is no one to talk to.

I guess I have done my job. No doubt I could have done things better. I hope I didn’t get everything wrong and that I’ve done some things right. When I’ve been tidying your rooms I’ve never found anything drug or knife related; to my knowledge none of you have ever been arrested; you don’t get into fights, steal; you don’t drop litter. I’m not taking the credit for this, I am merely pointing out how lucky I’ve been.

I am proud of you all – and of your various achievements, and it’s wonderful to see you looking happy, and sharing your lives with some lovely people.

As one chapter of my life comes to a close, new ones are starting for all of us. (I felt it absolutely necessary to close this letter in a really corny and cheesy way – but it is true).

Love you,

Love Mum XXXXX – No that looks wrong, Love Wend. XXXXX

...taking the PITH

It was satsumas this time. I don't know how a grown man can be so bloody stupid at times. Where was he when common sense and logic were dealt out? Probably at the market, buying fruit.

He moans about the price of satsumas in Sainbury's. OK - but at least when you get them home they are mostly edible - and often you can get a BOGOF offer. I have to say, if I worked in Sainsbury's, I'd always be telling him to bog-off. I am, of course, referring to the husband.

He had a day off (oh lucky me). He started talking about our lack of satsumas, and how expensive they are in Sainsbury's. There is a farm shop just down the road - so two satsuma sellers within walking distance. He decided the farm shop would probably be as expensive as the supermarket. He said he should have got some from the market when he was in town. I agreed - pointing out that if you were in town already, well it made sense to get fruit from the market - however, if that was the sole reason for going - well it made it more expensive than Sainsburys.

Oh no - he argued - because they are only £1 in the market.

Ah but the bus fare (my argument).

So, he went into town to get some satsumas - to make it 'worthwhile' he bought £2's worth. The total busfare was £3. How is that 'cheaper'? Plus, the satsumas are hard as bullets, impossible to peel, the pith is welded to the fruit, they are sour and very pippy. Some are green in places - they have gone mouldy already. So we will probably end up throwing half of them away.

Surely it would have been better (and actually cheaper) to get the more expensive ones in the first place? It would also have saved time - and the fruit would have been edible.

Please, someone explain it to me, because I just don't understand!!!