It’s a Worry (Part the Second)
Right then. Mrs M is gallivanting around Dorset and I have been left in sole charge of Chez Mackie. Not a problem. House-sitting wise, I have always been able to nearly muddle through in a semi-convincing way.I really thought that I was getting away with it this weekend even with the added pressure of the hound.
It’s now time for the check over the homestead (before her return tomorrow) in the vain hope that I can avoid her usual assertion that I have turned the place into a complete mess.
Dougal is out being walked by the next generation and I am making a serious effort. I got the hoover out and sort of ran it around to disturb the dust. I then went to put out the rubbish.
When Mrs M and I first became romantically involved, I still had to go home to Perth for the holidays and I counted the hours until I could rush back to her side. One evening I was driving back to her, courtesy of the family car which I was due to deliver to Dad at Waverley Station the next morning. As I approached the Forth Road Bridge, I established that I had a total of 2 shillings and three pennies on my person in various coins of the realm. Not a problem again. The bridge would cost 1/6d and the phone call to my beloved to say that I was about to arrive was going to be a well spent 6d.
I got to Cramond to find that I still had a shilling in change but no essential sixpence. This had to mean that I had shortchanged the Forth Bridge Authority. More importantly, I was going to be rolling up to Mrs M’s parents without prior advisement which was a serious social gaffe in those days.
So. I drove back to the Bridge (about 7 miles and wasting parental petrol, to be fair), parked in the hotel car park and hurried down to the toll gate where I confessed, handed over another 3d and got a shiny 6d in exchange so that I could make the call.
I realise, of course, that this tale tells you something slightly dark and disturbing about me but that’s just the way I am. Many of my fellow lawyers are the same. Things like that really matter to most of us.
That explained, back to the rubbish. I have just discovered to my horror that Mrs M has put food waste in the plastics waste bin. I felt violated by this and wondered if our relationship could ever recover. Then, I remembered that she has, for all of our years together, done far more for that relationship than I ever could have.
I have, therefore, decided to forgive her momentary lapse. All that I am now agonising about is whether I should scrape the food waste out of its present repository and consign it to its proper place or just leave it.
I think we all know the answer to that one.