House Training..

Now here’s a little anecdote that I suspect more than one woman can relate to..

My friend Sibs has come back from Australia, she’s been there for about two years and it fills my heart with genuine joy to know she is back in this country. We shared a flat for a few years and never a cross word said, never a dull moment, she’s one of those souls that anyone and everyone likes, gentle warmth. Mind you, she’s completely useless at laundry, she’d wash everything in one large load at high temperature and then wonder why all her underwear gradually turned grey, in fact all her clothes attained the same grey colour whilst my T-shirts stayed white(ish!)… I had to explain why we separate whites from coloured.. a job her mother should have taught her.. it took me ages to house train her 😉

During our time together she went through ‘a dry spell’ as she calls it and didn’t date anyone for about three months, “Mennnn!!!” as she would moan and complain… consequently didn’t really care about her appearance too much and crucially she stopped shaving her legs.. This didn’t matter to me of course as she was more like my sister than a bit of fluff and I certainly wouldn’t be snuggling up with her, no matter how cold the nights got. However, one evening I’m having a shower and I noticed the shower basin was rapidly filling up with water.. I thought “that’s odd…” and after stomping around a bit and giving up trying to unblock it I got dried and dressed..

Then Sibs came back from shopping and I mentioned this to her…and she had the good grace to look guilty and said “oh ermm, did I not mention I’ve got a date tonight ..and shaved three months fur off from my legs this afternoon….” … I left her to unblock the shower with strict instructions to shave a bit more frequently..even if she is not dating…

I had to house train another flatmate after Sibs, Ed, an Italian, he was even hairier than Sibs but fortunately he didn’t shave anything except his chin, he was like a bloody werewolf thou, I pity the woman who had to snuggle up with him, it would be like snuggling up with Scooby Doo..

Anyway, Ed was typical Italian, he lived with his extended family and this was his first time away from under moma’s wings. Seemed a nice enough chap but he had no idea that meals didn’t cook themselves and dishes didn’t wash themselves and shirts didn’t iron themselves. After about a week he had run out of clean clothes and he said to me how come nothing works here? I said what do you mean and he said “well, at home I throw my dirty shirts in the laundry basket and when I come back from work they are washed and pressed and hanging up…and when I get up out of bed I leave it in a mess but when I come home it’s made…” and I looked at him and laughed… he hadn’t a clue… it took me months to get him to actually cook and clean and iron and do all those things that keeps us sane but towards the end he finally had it.

However, his moma come to visit one day from Italy to see the sights of London and stayed with us. She was flabbergasted when she saw Ed ironing a shirt, and couldn’t believe the change in her son, she kissed me on both cheeks and hugged me tightly because she had never seen Ed wash a dish or iron a shirt… I think she wanted me to go back to Italy with them…

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