The Landlady has a handful

When I came back from Cuba four weeks ago, the dishwasher was broken. I had left The Big Son in charge of the house (and, more importantly given him a rent reduction in order to do so) and he had promised that it would be immaculate when I returned from my holiday. On my return, I was less than delighted to discover a kitchen that could have featured in an episode of the programme following the grime police around Britain. There were piles of filthy dishes everywhere and a dishwasher full of even more filth plus about three inches of stagnant, stinking water. The Big Son was of course nowhere to be seen.

Even before I went to bed after my 10-hour flight, I felt compelled to clear the kitchen surfaces of dirty dishes. I had not yet worked out that the dishwasher was completely broken, figuring the problem was more likely to be one of human error. Later, having switched said machine on to do a full cycle, during which it appeared to do nothing beyond making a terrible grinding noise and produce even more filthy water, I realised I would have to call out ‘the man’ to have a look at it. With a heavy heart and only two hours sleep, I emptied the dishwasher and hand washed all the dishes that had been sitting there for – looking at the clumps of flourishing bacteria – probably about a week. Still, The Big Son was nowhere to be found and the anger that I was hoping to direct at him was waning somewhat.

A week later, ‘the man’ came out to look at the machine, claiming it would need a new pump. Whenever any piece of household machinery needs repairing at Landlady Towers, it is always totally normal for the requisite part to cost more than the machine itself and this is exactly what happened with the dishwasher. At £250, the new pump would be only £30 cheaper than buying a brand new dishwasher. The dishwasher man declared the machine not worth fixing and took it away, leaving a sad gap in the kitchen units. I decided to buy a new dishwasher in the end and, after a month of washing up after three children and at least four lodgers, I have finally ordered it and hopefully, it will be arriving next week. The Big Son and I bumped into each other in the kitchen earlier this week and he was carrying piles of filthy crockery which, presumably he’d been storing in his room for the past month. I was a little alarmed, yet not entirely surprised, when he asked where the dishwasher was. Full marks for observation then. That’s the last time I give him a rent reduction to look after things when I go away…

Illustration: Jake McDonald www.shakeyillustrations.blogspot.com