The teenager has just informed me that someone has broken into the house and stolen all the hair grips.
Thank god they left the telly eh?
I do now have a vision of a bloke in a Mac sidling up to people in pubs and whispering out of the corner of his mouth ‘Hey mate, wanna buy a bobby pin?’
Seems more likely to me that they are in her Armageddon bedroom somewhere. She says she has looked and they aren’t, but I reckon you could hide a body in there and the police would struggle to locate it under the debris. Actually, maybe there is a body in there, that would explain the smell.
I have had to bring out the big guns and declare that if the disaster area is not sorted by the end of the week then I am putting a password on the broadband. It’s the only threat that works these days.
I wonder what else might turn up? The lost treasure of the Sierra Madre? The missing remote control? A new form of penicillin in a discarded coffee cup?
I think she likes it messy. She went on a trip to the National Gallery a year or so back, and I asked her to get me a postcard of something cool or beautiful or interesting. She got me this…
It is called ‘The Destroyed Room’ by Jeff Wall and she has been trying to recreate it ever since. Maybe she will be the next Tracey Emin?
Anyway, must dash, off to see a bloke about some odd socks…. *taps side of nose*
Love Miss Cisco XXX