You always know that it is going to be “one of those days” when something totally untoward and unfortunate happens first thing in the morning, when you are at your least prepared to deal with it.
Here is what happened to me today. I was up with the lark, all bright eyed and bushy-tailed (I know, I know, I sound like a particularly annoying meerkat, don't I?) ready
to set off to the Bowls Clubhouse for my second stint as Assistant Secretary which, regular readers will remember, involves me in the Recording of the Minutes. I had showered and washed my hair (this is not mandatory for Assistant Secretary but demonstrates
my level of commitment) and eaten my rather boring breakfast of Special K and skimmed milk. I think I need to inject a little variety into my breakfasts – I have friends who enjoy meals like Eggs Benedict or Kedgeree first thing in the morning. Me? It’s
as much as I can do to decide which Cereal of The Day should grace my bowl. Occasionally I manage raisins...
Anyway, the thing is I was in plenty of time.
All I had to do was pack up my laptop, check that I had all the paperwork to hand and then drive myself the short distance to the Clubhouse. Indeed, I told myself, I even had time before I had to leave to empty the kitchen rubbish bin which was busily
overflowing in the cupboard under the sink. How does that happen, by the way? Does kitchen rubbish have an ability to reproduce when our backs are turned?
A Bad Move as it turned out. The moment I went to lift the liner bag out of the bin, a discarded carton of out-of-date cream sort of jumped out of the bin and sprayed a thick layer of extra thick double all over the kitchen floor. Reader, I panicked.
I grabbed at a tea towel and dabbed ineffectually at the creamy mess, trying to stop it seeping under the kitchen cabinets where it would undoubtedly congeal and produce a horrible and lingering smell which would torment me for days to come. Unfortunately
I was still holding onto the bin liner which proceeded, under pressure, to split from top to bottom, releasing a used coffee filter, complete with soggy coffee grains, to join the mess I had already made. I had now accidentally created a not-very-skinny
deconstructed latte. On the kitchen floor, too.
The time is ticking by and I am going to be late if I don’t hurry. I try to decant the contents of the old
bin liner (all those contents, that is, which are not already decorating the kitchen floor) into a new bin liner. They don’t seem to fit. Lots of tiny pieces of egg shell escape onto the floor, presumably to add a little crunch to the coffee cream mixture.
I could, of course, have left it to Mr B to clear up after me but my mother always told me to take responsibility for my own messes. Mr B would probably have said the
same thing, if asked. But less politely.
You would have been proud of me, the way I sorted it all out in double quick time. Needs must when the devil drives –
another of my mother’s little sayings. No, I have no idea what it means, either. But here’s the score: Floor cleaned – tick. Bin liner replaced – tick. Rubbish securely tied and deposited safely in wheelie bin outside – tick.
Cleaning cloths rinsed out and in the washing machine – tick. I grab my car keys and make it to the Bowls Clubhouse just in the nick of time.
is when I notice that my clean, navy-blue, beautifully pressed trousers, fresh on today in honour of the Committee Meeting, are liberally spattered with tell-tale creamy splashes. I hide my legs under the table and hope nobody has noticed.
Some days, you just can’t win...