House rules

While going through some old files today I came across a note which, for years, was stuck to the fridge door in our old house. I think I posted The House Rules one day when coming home from work, tired, and finding the kitchen a mess, with several teenagers lounging in the TV room oblivious to my arrival. Or to anything, really.

You can tell I start the note being fairly calm and get more frustrated as I go on, thinking about all the things that need doing in the house.

Here's the transcript:

Everyone's Duties - House Rules

1. Keep decks clear (you can tell I was a naval wife once upon a time...)
2. Always make sure there is a plastic bag lining any dustbin.
3. Empty your laundry basket.
4. Use your laundry basket.
5. Put dishes into dishwasher.
6. Put dishwasher on if full.
7. Empty clean dishwasher  - somebody has to do it!
8. Keep kitchen tidy!
9. Don't collect dirty glasses & mugs & crockery in your room - it breeds bacteria.
10. Under the bed is not a large cupboard...

In our new flat there's no need for rules as it's mostly just the Englishman and me here. Now I almost miss those days of a house-full of floppy youngsters, always hungry, always tired, leaving a trail of crockery and dirty washing behind them...actually, come to think of it, I don't at all!

Something so right

I thought I'd embarrass everybody by crying my eyes out at Son's Oxford University graduation ceremony, but I managed to control myself.  Whether it was due to the jubilant mood of the crowd, the freezing temperatures as we stood in the shockingly long queue of proud parents and friends, which snaked around the Sheldonian, or the hard wooden seats in the Theatre, or the one and a half hour ceremony, mostly conducted in Latin, I don't know. It could also have been Husband's whispered Dog Latin jokes like,  'Salitamus Harricus Potterus,' 'Glutumus Maximus' or 'Bickus Diccus' ala Private Eye's That Honorary Degree Citation In Full or Monty Python. I had one wobbly moment when the graduants stood up and clapped the family and friends, and Son looked at us, sitting in the Gods, and smiled. Proud parent doesn't come anywhere close to describing what I felt at that moment. But that soon passed when a candidate was given a Masters Degree in Studies and Husband whispered, 'Surely that must include dining rooms and bedrooms too?'

The rest of the day went swimmingly, in spite of the wintry temperatures outside. Luckily the heating in the marquee at Son's college kept everyone warm during the celebratory lunch. There weren't any speeches, just a few sensible and encouraging words from The Principal.

And what did I wear, you may ask. Well, the weather completely scuppered my plans. Luckily it didn't rain much, but the forecast looked so dodgy, I decided to opt for a long sleeved black Agnes B jersey dress and a Jaeger jacket, tights and Miu Miu peep toe shoes. I added the scarf at the last minute and boy was I glad I did. Even though it is just a thin silk thing, it was a birthday present and kept me a little warmer than had I not worn it. Standing in the queue, waiting to go into the ceremony for half an hour, whipped by the occasional freezing gusts of wind, I fantasised about the several warm cashmere wraps, winter coats, smart boots or thicker tights I could have worn.

Going for a conservative look also seemed the right decision....and all items were already in my wardrobe. Fancy that!

Let's hear it for the boomerangs

I read in one of the Sunday papers that this it what grown up children who return home when they've already once flown the nest are called. A growing phenomena now that so many newly graduated youngsters don't immediately land their dream job. Or any job...

Husband says our boomerang is 'back on the payroll'. Rather harsh in my view as to me he's a gift from God in more ways than one. I shall count the ways:

1. His return coincided with daughter's departure.

2. He's an excellent, innovative cook. We spend hours planning menus with simple fresh ingredients, and sometimes he even cooks lunch after a session in the gym.

3. He knows when I want (read 'need') a drink. He knows which wines I like, usually Sauvignon Blanc, and that it needs to be nicely chilled and poured into my favourite, large glass.

4. He has definite opinions about everything from politics to literature to fashion and can argue his case intelligently until the cows come home (and does...).

5. He's got a wicked sense of humour.

6. Best of all, we never tire of his company as he leaves us for weeks on end to 'be a social butterfly' or to be with his girlfriend in Oxford. A perfect boomerang.