Old Boy
“I’m 86, you know!”
My sixteen and a half year old cat Harley-Boy and I have been together longer than me and Meeester. I love that wee black and white guy, but lately he has been letting us know that he’s not got long left.
Here’s how:
1. By pissing in an open suitcase under our bed this morning like a small racehorse despite many good years of fertilising the neighbours’ gardens with the bounty of his bladder and bowels.
2.By smelling of Death.
3. By wanting to be on us all the time which is unpleasant to anyone with a fully functioning sense of smell.
4. By being really bloody annoying so that when he finally goes we’ll say phrases like “It’s a blessing” or “Thank God for a merciful release”. All old people do this, they become intolerable to be around, so that it’s easier for you to say goodbye.
5.By being constantly hungry because the receptor that tells his brain his tummy is full has short circuited. Like Henry the Eighth, Mr Creosote and George IV, he’s going to eat himself to death.
6. By refusing to spend any of his pension on new clothes because there’s no point, he’ll be dead soon. Hang on, I’m maybe confusing him with my late Gran.
7. By having short bursts of frantic activity like a kitten just to fox us and give us false hope. One minute you’re lamenting how slow and lame he’s become, the next you’re watching him sprint the length of the house to the sound of a tin being opened like a stinky Jesse Owens.
8. By shouting at us all the time. He’s not quite clenching his fist in a defiant gesture, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw him doing it. He’s that angry.
9.By dribbling on everything like a furry John Merrick.
10. By shouting out everyone else’s answers during Trivial Pursuit. Sorry, no. That was my Granda.
11. By constantly laying down the law to his younger feline friends. I swear I heard him miaow something along the lines of“ In my day it was all tins. Sachets? Sachets??We didn’t even KNOW what a sachet was! A sachet was something you did along a windowsill!”
12. By being blind but noticing every move you make, specially with those magical tin opening opposable thumbs and index fingers. It’s like Grandmothers who claim to be deaf but can clearly hear you badmouth them behind their backs.
Harley-Boy, the cat of the Flying Martinis, is knock knock knocking on heaven’s door but I’m concerned, do they have a cat flap?
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Cleaning House
For the past couple of years I’ve set my students a production brief called, “Pet Hates”. The deal is they have to make a five minute (ish) video on something that drives them mad or that they would like eliminated from this world. It’s kind of Room 101-ish, I suppose.
In the past we’ve had some corkers; “Neds” is a favourite of mine from last years’ graduates and it went down a storm at the Belmont Cinema Showcase last year. It presumably struck a chord with those who would like to see the use of firearms legalised in the elimination of the neds… This year we had a terrific one from 3 students on ” Canvassers”- where the hero of the film was a guy harassed by one of those guys you get trying to sell you something outside M&S. Very funny.
But dealing with an age range of 17-30 year olds and sadly, mostly males, no one yet has suggested my own personal pet hate as a subject, but I pray one day it’ll come up. My pet hate is HOUSEWORK. I hate it! I Hate it! I HATE ITTTTTT!
I’m generally happy with my lot, however,every single day of my life I wish for some dramatic change in my personality and /or circumstances. I wish fervently that I would become:
A naturally tidy person, OR;
Someone who takes joy in household tasks, OR;
Someone who has a cleaner.
My husband, John, got a digital camera for Christmas and once he got round to testing it out he took random photo of me folding laundry. The result was horrific and hilarious at the same time. I looked so utterly pissed off, it was frightening. I had developed jowls, creases on my forehead and a firmly turned down bottom lip. Now, I spend a hell of a lot of my time folding the laundry of four people and to think that this is what it does to me. It should be against the Human Rights Act.
You see these poor women on “10 Years Younger” (which I MUST watch every week- obsessive, y’see?) and usually their horrific aging is usually down to smoking, sunworshipping or bad dentistry. Mine is due to HOUSEWORK. There I’d be with Vicky Hambleton-Jones and she’d be looking at my photo album.
“Now, Gillian, here we have a photo of you at aged 17. At this point your Mum was mainly picking up after you, doing your laundry and generally being your own personal slave. I must say, you look terrific…..But here we see you at 25, you’ve got your own flat and I can see from the bags under your eyes that you’re even struggling to keep a one bedroom flat tidy…we can see the aging process beginning…..But here’s the real turning point at aged 35 you’ve two kids, a three bedroom house and numerous moggies..you’re really starting to look incredibly shit….
If I were sitting on the black chair in front of Tarrant on “Millimaire” (as my son calls it) and he asks what the first thing I would spend the million on, my answer would be a firm, “Household Staff, Chris.” But Chris wouldn’t understand, never having to lift a manicured finger in his pampered life.
I recently saw that “Sex Inspectors” programme on Channel Four. Channel surfing- didn’t book it or nuffing…..Anyway, the sexpert lady handed the male half of the guinea pig couple a box and told him that inside was the answer to the question, “What turns women on most?” Ignorantly, Mr Guinea Pig said “It”ll be a load of sex toys”. What a chump! How wrong could one man be? What actually lurked inside the box was a male sized pinny, Marigolds and cleaning equipment. No, this wasn’t a bizarre fetish, it was simply this; actual bona fide research has shown that women feel more relaxed, energetic and loving towards their husband if the husbands helped out with the cleaning. It’s simple really; less drudge equals more time for extra curricular stuff; sex included.
Now, in the past week John has made up a household rota which he claims is the answer to our prayers…housework is just about the only thing we argue about. He claims he didn’t see the programme…..
I don’t want to give them impression that my house is like a landfill site; it’s usually ok and generally quite clean but it takes a hell a lot of effort on my part and it’s a Sisyphean task, as I’ve no sooner finished then in come the Destroyers (my family and their associates) and the chaos theory takes effect once more. Oh, I’m sure you all know that Sisyphus was the guy in Greek legend condemned by the Gods to roll a giant boulder up to the top of a mountain repeatedly until the end of time….that about sums it up, really.
But the rota seems to be working and we are hoping that it’ll put an end to the kind of petty arguments that sound a little like this,
“This house is bloody mess!!!”
“Well, I tidied it up last April..”
“What about the laundry, you haven’t done any since 1998″
“I have so, I folded some shirts just yesterday”
“Have you EVER washed the kitchen floor? Do you even KNOW where the mop lives????”
“Well, have you ever done the recycling. How come that seems to always be my job?”
Etc… Etc…. You get my drift. The rota is the answer to all our prayers, all power to the rota!!! Yay!
(BTW: If you know anyone who fancies a cleaning job , let me know. Reasonable rates. Must have own marigolds….)
