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>It's not that I mind the work of painting and >redecorating the room that the lodger has moved out >of, it's the hassle of "improvements" my father wants >to make that gives me the pip. > >When he and his friend, Peter, get together, all sorts >of crazy ideas start to develop. It's usually Peter >who puts them into his head. He's like that brat on >the road lately who gets the smaller kids to knock on >doors or break plants and then hangs them for it to >the irate neighbours. > >We learned from the experience of having Kathleen >sharing our space that any new lodger should have >their own fridge. It wasn't that she kept anything >particularly odd in ours (though being a vegetarian is >odd enough in our house, where the residents are >particularly carniverous), it was just that having to >store stuff on two fridge shelves when we really >needed all three was awkward. > >So Tom arrived with a new fridge (slightly >shop-damaged, but otherwise grand) and it's sitting in >that great storage area for all things new and >probably unnecessary -- the middle of the living room >-- waiting for me to finish up the painting in the >vacated space upstairs. > >He figured the new lodger should have their own kettle >as well. I asked him if he expected them to walk >downstairs to the kitchen to fill this kettle and >bring it back upstairs to boil it. Or would they be >filling it from the bathroom taps? (Not drinking >water, and not very hygienic anyway). > >So Tom went off with Peter and what Peter says is what >he generally brings home to plague me. > >"Peter says..." I'm already gritting my teeth at this >intro... "Peter says we could plumb a washbasin into >THAT corner and run the waste pipes into the gutter." > >"Did he now?" I say from the level of the skirting >board. I KNOW I'm going to drip paint on the carpet >any time now. How do you argue with logic that thinks >foul water running down the tiles of the FRONT of the >house into the OPEN gutter won't be messy, smelly, >and... make a list....? > >"What do you think?" > >I brush out a few more strokes, thinking of an answer >that won't cater to his wish to start a fight. > >"I think I want to concentrate on this a bit and maybe >we'll talk about it later." > >So I get off the hook on that one. Eventually the >sinks and pedestals in the brochure that Peter >probably gave him turn out to be too expensive when >the maths are done. > >So he has to do something with the fridge. > >"It's very low," he says. "I have a square table in >the garage... We could put it standing on that." > >My teeth are feeling the strain. > >The table is someone's junked coffee table acquired in >the usual "Oh Tom will take it" manner that has this >place the nightmare it is for junk and heaps of >useless stuff. It emerges from the garage covered in >dust, cobwebs, heating oil, scratches, and grime. > >"What do you think?" he says, measuring it up... > >He's gone out now. With Peter. God knows what we'll >be installing in my nice clean room when he gets back. > Maybe the wardrobe needs a jacuzzi on top. Or the >lodger might like their own rope ladder.

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