Another thing that annoys me, today

The house two doors away was bought by a young woman on the make under a buy-to-lease type arrangement which she probably expected to put her securely on the path to financial security.

By my reckoning the place has been let for no more than six months of the three years she's owned the place and the reason is simple. She bought a dump that had undergone a very superficial smartening up. Beneath the coat of cheap paint there's mould just busting to come through; all because the leaking roof was patched up rather than properly repaired. That's just one reason of many for potential occupants running a mile.

And she can't sell the place without doing major repairs or accepting a pittance for a place in need of those repairs.

She's there occasionally to air the place out, which we now know is forewarning of an visit by a prospective tenant.

This week, on Tuesday as I went to work I saw a bit of a plastic supermarket carrier bag sticking out of the top of my garden waste bin (subsidised, but partly funded by me and provided by the district council on the strict understanding that garden waste and garden waste only will go into it on pain of having the bloody thing taken away without a refund of any proportion the annual rent I've paid in advance).

Needless to say I took the damned thing out. Domestic rubbish of the junk mail and cereal box variety. Happily the junk mail had a house number (incidentally does this dumb bitch known nowt about identity theft?). I left it in the domestic rubbish collection point and there it has sat.

And this morning when I returned from the school run the door of the house in question was open so I knocked. A frightfully, frightfully skinny bint bounded the stairs under the mistaken impression I wanted to make friends.

When I explained in words of very few syllables that she mustn't put her domestic rubbish into MY garden waste bin she came over all 'gosh, frightfully sorry!" and then ruined the whole effect by blaming her 'partner' who she gave me to understand is a bloke and therefore not to be relied upon to do the right thing with anything at all.

What annoyed me? Well this silly cow and I should have nothing in common, should we, but as the last sentence indicates - we do. How bloody annoying is that?

And another thing

I would really love to sort this tip out.

Now that the socialist mob have extended their recently launched wizard wheeze for raking in yet more dosh (the Home Information Pack Scheme) we've got to do something [working on the assumption fir the moment that we'll ever actually do the decent thing by one another and divorce] to put the shack in order so that there's some chance of it selling.

The plain fact is the place is fit only for development. It needs virtual rebuilding from top to bottom. It's actually difficult to think of anything that would be left if I had the resources to sort it out myself and I'm certain any self respecting buyer would view things the same way.

Packed full of potential but difficult to see how anyone could have lived in this, would be how most viewers would regard the property.

So here I am struggling to keep the mountains of crap he and the offspring insist on surrounding themselves with. And he went out shopping this week and came home with six new books. That doesn't sound so bad does it. But these were all enormous coffee table books and I have absolutely no idea where to put them. We already have so many books most of them are stacked in piles (which is bad for them) or in boxes (which isn't much better).

It is heart breaking to attempt to dust and vacuum around this lot, shifting it all from one place to another to get around the house. One day I'll drag the whole fucking lot out into the back garden and set fire to it. And I'll be nicked for causing air pollution.

There ain't no justice in this world.

Fat fucker's due back. I'm sure there's more. What was it?

Meanwhile sun's over the yard arm in plenty of places. Time for drinky-poos.

Silence isn't always golden

Finished work on Saturday night, exhausted and exultant. Done. And at five pm that had looked a faint prospect. As I came down the road afterwards I realised that finally, belatedly, my blood pressure was starting to climb.

Sunday was the day the neighbors shouldered arms, in a manner of speaking and dealt on our behalf, but for their own benefit, with some of the mountain of crap that has accumulated. Now in our own defence not all of it is crap we've brought onto the property and dumped. A fair old proportion of it is either the detritus abandoned by the previous owners (a rudder, some piping, old cans of paint - and possibly worse, and other stuff too) or the consequences of the garden being a jungle when we moved in. That we've made little progress toward setting things right is a fair accusation. I put my hands up to it and the related charge that we've added to the accumulation of unattractive garden non-accoutrement's.

Up early despite having put away three bottles of Hobgoblin (after being a good girl for so many days in a row, damn it) I made a start. Several bags of sundry crap and the two old bicycles (ours) and the microwave (ours) and a few other bits and pieces have now gone the way of all things.

The garden hasn't been cleared but it looks a hell of a lot better. The hillock that I created when I was trying to dig out that post has now settled and is starting to green over. The stuff that is turning it green isn't exactly lawn, but it isn't nettle or bind weed or thistle or morning glory (our particular nightmare). Instead it is rather fluffy and gentle under foot and if I could live with the hillock I'd be inclined to leave things as they are and continue to allow nature to take its course.

If he'd thought yesterday was bad today was much worse. I was briskly efficient. Almost like a proper mother and housewife.

Off to town we (the offspring and I) went while he was at work. Our objective was to replace her dead tent so that she can go back to indoor camping. Also on my list were casual shoes for her camp next week, school shoes for the coming term, a couple of pairs of jeans (again for camp as well as general wear) and almost more important than all the rest some replacement 'stoppers' for the ends of the curtain rail across the patio sliding doors.

At some time the original stoppers went west, since which time there's been a serious chance of the 8ft drop and heavy (and lined) curtains sailing clear off the track if the curtains are opened with too much vigour.

In fact, thanks to Woolworths the trip cost less than it might have. The tent (an extravagantly pink confection) didn't cost much and I got the two pairs of jeans I wanted (plus a top as one was a set) from the reduced rail. Not only that but I spotted some net rail holders and realised they were Just What I Needed for the window by the front door. The school shoes were expensive, but they always are as I have never skimped in that department no matter how tough things have to be everywhere else.

I did stop and the chemist and by someClinique stuff for myself as well as a book, but the book was picked up in the discount store so it was a bit of a bargain. We had lunch at McDonalds which is shocking I know, but we don't have one in town and rarely get out so it doesn't happen too often.

We didn't beat him home so had to display our wares (I hid the skin care). He was duly impressed. I needed him to fit the curtain rail stoppers as I'm not tall enough. Then dragooned him into getting out into the garden.

Our council-provided 'green bin' is now absolutely choc-a-block. Not only have I cut back the forsythia but I've also gathered up some earlier garden waste and put that in too. Short of clambering up and doing like a grape-presser nothing more is going in that thing. So another couple of plastic sacks have been filled up. When I'm on a roll there ain't no stopping me. The paved area has been swept over, but for the bit that is continually wet because we have an overflow from the tank in the loft which his nibs won't go up and fix. I cut back the fuchsia which overhangs the paving. Not heavily but enough to make it look a lot better, and I pruned the 'thing' that overhangs the roses so that they are set off better.

I wasn't finished with him yet, either. I had him raising bicycle seats, doing carpentry and providing necessary support to me while I put up the new curtain in the window by the front door.

Still the fucker didn't bugger off to bed until after half past ten. What do I have to do.

There's always Gross Humiliation

A normal, adequate, average couple would do anything not to be in the situation we're in.

I'm not on sure ground with theology and dogma but Pride, I believe, was one of the deadly sins (or at least an excess of pride). Now I don't know why the Church had a particular problem with an excess of pride but from a practical level it amounts to an exhortation not to cut ones nose off to spite ones face and that seems perfectly reasonable to me.

And that is why a week from Sunday I will bury my pride and self respect and let the neighbors on both sides help us by removing the several skip loads of complete and utter crap we've allowed to accumulate on our property.

Old bicycles, old shopping trolleys, the detritus of DIY projects undertaken by previous owners, clapped out toys, half baked gardening projects, a build up of garden waste and the crap that was buried in the ancient past.

We've just sat on our hands and looked the other way and now someone else is going to fix the problem, because they can't stand living next door to it any longer. I can't say I blame them for taking action: I wouldn't like to live next door to us. And if the boot were on the other foot and I had the wherewithal I'd do exactly what they're about to do too.

He's in hog heaven over this. It is another one of those extraordinary win win situations he has the capacity to engineer. I hate living like this. I do what I can to address the problem. He wades in when he sees me getting stuck in and makes things worse. I get ground down and give up. Things get worse. I rail at him until it is clear he won't lift a finger to fix one problem at a time. I do what I can to address the problems...

He knows that I hate living like this and feel humiliated by living like this. And he knows I will feel humiliated that a couple of kids and their problems are about to step in and sort out our mess. And by humiliating me and belittling me he'll reduce me and make me just that little bit less able to resist. Domestic violence comes in many forms but all with the same objective.

He must think this is absolutely perfect.