Cheese and Marmite

Moss clung tightly to the cracks in the sandstone wall; I wondered how long it had been there and how many people had stared at it, ignored it or even walked on it.  I had done all of the above; all my life I had lived in this lovely cottage.  Looks can be deceiving though, from the outside the house looked massive but inside each room was carefully decorated to achieve the maximum level of comfort and this (in mother’s point of view) was to find the deepest sofas and the pale peach curtains to make it look as if the sun was trying to break through into the cosy rooms.  The living room was my favourite place; mother had taken to throwing large, real tiger fur rugs around.  They were so soft but it didn’t condone the fact that someone had killed this beautiful animal.  I usually resigned myself to one of the plum coloured sofas (the one with the good view of the television) and stayed there for most of the morning until mother decided to arise.  She would float around in a haze of Chanel number five and herbal shampoo before the sweet tones were overpowered (I never thought this possible) by the savoury toast cooking under the grill.  Mother didn’t ‘do’ toasters but if it was under the grill then she would put cheese and marmite on it; (this is why I love her) it’s not a good idea to try and use a toaster in a grill fashion as my brother and my uncle discovered when they came home in the early hours of the morning with a brilliant idea of putting the toaster on its side and then loaded it up with cheese and toast.  Needless to say there was a slight fire but outspoken enough to set the fire alarm off and mother’s alarm, both brother and uncle were caught waving tea towels at the burglar alarm instead.  So I give you the reason that mother doesn’t ‘do’ cider or toasters.

          Today was Sunday.  Not my favourite day by any means, a day of rest it may be but the aching feeling of a Sunday night, doesn’t seem to fade.  I thought it would get better with age, well with my ancient 20 years on planet earth.  Mother, for once, had got up early and decided she would make jam today.  This activity usually consisted of a large amount of noise as she moved the sludge from pot to pot.  There was also the annual dropping of a couple of jam jars and so my sleep was inevitably disturbed.  She beamed as I entered the kitchen; her favourite apron was covered in purple gunge and her wild hair was scraped back into an untidy bun.

“Good morning dear, how are you today? It’s a lovely day, you could mow the lawn for me if you’d like?”

This wasn’t a question so forgive me for adding the question mark in; I just thought it would help you to understand my pain.

“I’m busy today mother, and anyway what do you pay Pete for?  I can’t take all of his jobs that would be unfair!”  I remarked tactfully, slinking into an old, wooden chair.  I pawed through the fruit bowl until I found a half decent apple.

“Oh yes, I keep forgetting well I suppose you are right, I don’t want to pay him for nothing.  You are lucky today I have no chores for you as I seem to have stupidly employed people to do them for you!”

“How cutting, I have spent all my life looking after the garden and this huge house.  It’s making me old; such a vast space could not be tamed by one man!”

“Elsie seems to manage just fine and she’s only a young girl!”  Mother snorted, stirring a huge vat of purple goo.

“I think that if I had had the incentive of being paid six pounds and hour then I would be laughing.”

“If only I could afford your wondrous skills my dear son.”  Mother cackled sarcastically.  I heaved myself out of the chair and sulked off into the sitting room.

“The T.V is broken darling so unfortunately you will have to amuse yourself with other things today.”  She called through and I’m certain I could detect humour in her voice.  How rude.  My first port of call would have to be the shower then.  I couldn’t stay in with mother tweeting at my every move.  I pushed the large oak door behind me and pulled the iron lock shut.  This bathroom was made for giants, the brand new shower chamber stood tall in the centre of the room.  I flicked the red flashing switch and it roared into life.  It was like a pressure washer and when I stepped out of the jet my skin was red raw.

          I sauntered out of the back door in the hope that mother wouldn’t see me.  I don’t know why I was worried, by now she would probably be on the phone to one of her many friends whining about how useless I was now she had a maid and a gardener, or how inconvenient it was to have to decide which designer shop to go to next and whether she would have drive her vintage Porsche to the store.  I couldn’t really complain, I had a nice fat allowance and anything I wanted I got.  This didn’t make me spoilt, oh no my friend, I was the definite opposite.  I didn’t have a car and I rarely wore shoes unless forced to.  I hadn’t been shopping for years, the only reason my clothes were brand new is because mother has a shopping addiction and she didn’t want me looking scruffy.  I had over a hundred pairs of shoes.  I hated every one of them, why when my feet were perfectly good enough to walk on would I want to stride around in the latest brand?

          I headed out across the paddock, alongside the bluebell wood.  They were in full bloom and they carpeted the woods right back as far as I could see.  I reached into my pocket to find my old Nokia only to find the smooth curves of a brand new iPhone.  Mother had worked out the new fashion of phones then.  She must have wizened up to my lies about how a three year old Nokia was vintage, just like her car.  I searched for Ali in my contacts and yes he was there.  Mother is getting too clever now she shouldn’t know how to transfer contacts, she is old!  I sent him a text saying I would be over in a couple of minutes.  He replied straight away (the geek that he is) telling me to slow down as he needed to tidy his room.  This means he was probably pleasuring himself over Star Wars and he didn’t want to be interrupted.  I guess you are thinking, ‘well surely he would have to stop to text?’  The answer to that is no, he most definitely did it with his face or maybe even his eyes; he knows how to text that well.  I quickened my pace just to annoy him and timed myself on the journey; one minute thirty five seconds.  This time was up in the high rankings; damn I was making record time.  I heard a grunt from upstairs as I banged on the door loudly, very loudly indeed.  I pushed the red front door open with caution and padded up the stairs.  I was faced with a half guilty, half angry face from Ali as he adjusted his faded jeans.

“So, check this.  Mot knows how to work phones now.”  I chucked the phone at him.  He sighed in awe as he gently stroked the screen.

“This is the brand new model.  It’s only just been released; it’ll be months before I can afford one!”

“Have mine.  I’ll just tell Mot that I lost it; she’ll buy me a new one straight away.”

“Oh wow.  Not only is your mum good looking but she’s amazing as well!  I’ll have to give her an extra loving for this!  Maybe even two, I’ll do her so good...”  A low flying cushion stopped Ali’s disgusting thought process in its tracks.

“Shut your face man, I’m giving you an iPhone!”  I hurled the chair in his direction as well.

“No man, not the room!”  He jumped up and grabbed the chair before returning it to the exact same place.  Ali had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, not in a bad way; just that everything had to be in its exact place all the time and if it was out slightly all hell would break loose.  I fell onto the large bean bag and Ali settled on the bed.  I threw the remote and him and gestured towards the million inch wide, flat screen T.V on the wall.  A look of excitement shot to Ali’s face as he scrabbled with remote and pressed lots of buttons before the T.V finally switched on.  I couldn’t see a difference in that and my old one in the shed!