Flying the nest

I know I don't look old enough, but I have a 22 year old son and very soon he's going to be moving out.  He's engaged so this isn't some grotty house share with 5 lads who couldn't recognize a laundry basket if it fell on them, no, this is the real thing.  They've tightened their belts and they've saved up.  A lot of money actually, enough for a deposit on a lovely 3 bed, new build and brand new furniture, in fact my parents spare room currently looks like Ikea exploded, I keep hanging around their kitchen hoping to be offered a hotdog or a portion of Swedish meatballs but to no avail.  There isn't even a dime bar to be had.

When I think back to my first house it was a totally different story, it was a 2 up, 2 down terrace and the majority of stuff in it was donated from various relatives.  The dining room table was left by the previous owners, and judging by the state of it when I took the oil cloth off, had been used to slaughter goats and perform amputations.  We were given a sofa that we put in the bedroom, which someone may or may not have died on at some point and an aunt gave us a book case which was present at the signing of the magna carta.  There was no such thing as tasteful, pale hues and understated colour schemes, this was 1994, if you didn't have a border in every room you had failed at cutting edge interior design. If your light wasn't being provided by 16 uplighters you hadn't made it. 

If you'd peeped though my scallop edged nets you'd have seen that every room had a striped paper on the bottom half of the room, a contrasting border and a marble effect paper on the top half of the room, the bolder the better, burgundy's and royal blues were where it was at.  Every single room looked like a pub. Betty Turpin wouldn't have looked out of place propped up behind my honey pine sideboard peddling hot pot to unsuspecting visitors.  We could have had a quiz and bingo every Thursday night in the dining room and no one would have batted an eyelid, even when the fish man, in his grubby white coat and mesh trilby tipped up,  selling winkles and crabsticks from his basket.

So the whole moving out thing got me thinking about the things I wouldn't miss.  Now please understand, these things aren't just done by my eldest son, my youngest does them too, in fact I'm willing to bet unless your child is one of these odd breeds who helps out every kid, the world over is guilty of some, or all of them.

I've decided that once they've moved out I'm going to go round and do all of the things that have been driving me mad for the best part of 15 years.  In fact I think we should all do it.  We should give our offspring a taste of their own medicine.

THINGS TO DO:

• Walk around the house turning lights on.  It is important not to turn any of them back off.  In fact, look for more lights, have you switched on all the lamps?

• Find the only packet of chocolate biscuits in the house, take them to bed with you and eat them all.  You must leave the wrapper on the floor yet still deny all knowledge of any such packet of chocolate digestives.  Blame the dogs if you need to.

• Pour yourself a drink, only drink half of it, leave it on the mantel piece, or a window sill, maybe on the floor.  Never finish this drink.  Pour yourself another drink, why stop at two, have three or four.  Leave them in various locations so finding them is like a fun treasure hunt.

• Ask what's for tea then say you don't fancy it.  Never agree to anything before the 9th suggestion. To even suggest that you might fancy salmon when it was your favourite for 6 years is demented, it is obviously not suitable for a Tuesday Tea, you should know this. Demand it for a certain time and be late, or be early, just never be on time. Say it's cold/too hot.

• Criticise everyone.  For you, nothing is good enough, food is at best average, glasses aren't clean enough, the house is either too cold or too warm, food smells too foody, The colour schemes are rank, the furniture is rank, everyone in the house is rank.

• Get a dog.  Say it's your dog and you'll look after it and when you move out you'll take it.  A year later repeat the process only with a puppy that is a few slices short of a loaf.  Decide you don't want your new carpets to get dirty so you won't be taking the dog.

• Never turn the TV off.  It is bad luck.  It must stay on for all eternity playing to an empty room.  The same goes for games consoles.

• Play a game on the Xbox or PlayStation and lose.   Forget entirely that it's just a game and descend into a red mist that makes Mel Gibson look like a reasonable fellow.  Punch the wall/TV/doors, break off your wardrobe doors, burst all the blood vessels in your eyeballs,  swear in 23 different languages. 

I told my eldest and his girlfriend of my plans and they didn't seem too bothered.

'You wont' be getting invited round anyway'

CHARMING!