This morning, I was up a ladder with some filler desperately praying for the rain to stop both in my bathroom and out – and I don’t think somehow that my prayers have been answered. What I am hoping, however, is that my paltry DIY attempts will be enough to stem the Niagra Falls inside my flat even if they continue outside.
Being deaf in this case is great because it means that I don’t hear the drip, drop, drip, drop of the water hitting the lino. I don’t even hear the splish, splosh, splish, splosh as the drips start to hit the growing puddle on the floor. There is a bucket there now, so I am sure that there will soon be a plip, plop, plip, plop to be heard instead.
But enough about the acoustics properties of my bathroom, and on to more important things. This weekend I will be taking a trip to the Wild West… um Country! There I will see the wonderful Housemate-From-Penthouse-Flat – good job I got the word ‘flat’ in there or you’d all be thinking quite different things about her. We lived together at university in the most fabulous flat with the most idiotic boys and the most wonderful view of the sea. The idiotic boys thankfully moved on to be idiotic elsewhere but our friendship remains!
She is quite wonderful and has given me one of the best jobs on earth – I am a godmother! Which means I get keep a watchful eye on her daughter, Daisy, and spoil her rotten! HFPF was clever about her choices of godmother and also selected Very-First-Uni-Housemate and one of her Pompey friends as well – they are going to teach Daisy about the responsible things in life, at least until I am a grown-up.
Very-First-Uni-Housemate is ultra responsible! She was on my course and became my notetaker when things got tough. She went to every lecture for me, took notes and typed them up for me so I could teach myself the finer points of Shakespeare, Hardy and Machiavelli. The difference she made was incredible and I went from getting thirds in my literature essays to getting firsts. And, while VFUH was being studious, HFPF and I could often be found sipping hot chocolate with cream in Costa Coffee on the High Street before perusing the delights of Top Shop. And, we did this for three whole years.
Come to think of it, 6 years later, not a lot has changed. When we are together and even apart, we will still automatically gravitate to Costa for hot chocolate and Top Shop for retail therapy. Cereal will still be eaten in our pyjamas with cups of tea and morning chat shows for company. Except she is now a mum of two, and I am a godmother. I wonder when she is old and deaf and I am old and deafer, if anything will have changed?
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