WHEN you come home to a cheese-covered carpet, no handle on the bathroom window and a bin that is over-flowing because no-one understands the concept of emptying it, is it time to move?
Or is it time to make everyone else move - or at least the 18-year-old responsible for the cheese?
I think there is something about being an 18-year-old male that must turn you into a noise-making, item-breaking, food-consuming whirlwind.
This would be fine except I have to pay for the items and the food and also clear up the mess left in my son's wake.
Foolishly I thought when he hit 18 that he would instantly start clearing up after himself, be earning a living and bunging me a few quid for his keep.
Thanks to Gordon Brown and now the Con-Lib lot dreams of gainful employment and extra housekeeping cash are dead in the water. There are no bloody jobs, especially if you have no experience (opening the age old question of how do you get the experience?)
Don't even bother saying apprenticeship, I don't know how many he's applied for but it is a miracle to even receive a reply never mind get an interview.
Mind you I can't blame "call me Dave" and "I can't believe my luck Nick" for the cheese on the carpet. This, apparently, was the result of cheesy bacon and pasta being cooked. Why the grater had to be aimed at the kitchen floor in some sort of sweeping motion I have no idea. I assume it isn't something contained in a Jamie Oliver book.
