Health, hygiene, and the bits between (Pt 2)

So I got no sleep today. Actually, that’s a lie. I got two hours.

Some background, for the poor plebs who don’t know me. I work a night-shift, and therefore sleep during the day. In fact – my love of (very) red meat taken into account here – I have certain vampiric qualities. I also rent a room in a flat, which is populated long-term-ish (the flat, not my room) by a girl we shall call by the pseudonym of “Sarah” (a subtle one, this), and which is owned by an aging troll called “Maureen”. There are two other rooms, which – until yesterday – were inhabited by Gareth and Ben.

Both Gareth and Ben moved out yesterday. Maureen decided she would come round to pick up rent cheques and make sure the rooms were cleared. And, thusly, I got no fucking sleep.

  1. 11:00 – Maureen turns up, with sister and small yappy dog for moral support.
  2. 11:01 – Maureen has argument about bills with Gareth.
  3. 11:30 – Argument ends, with Maureen as vague victor.
  4. 11:35 – Maureen and Gareth go to gas / electricity meters to check bills. The meters are – wait for it – right outside my window. Another argument.
  5. 11:45 – Gareth leaves house forever.
  6. 11:46 – Sister of Maureen realises she has lost small yappy dog. Hunt begins for dog.
  7. 12:00 – Hunt for dog proceeds outside. Sister repeatedly checks area round gas / electricity meters.
  8. 12:30 – Conclusion finally reached that dog not on premises. Sister fucks off to local bacon station. Maureen manages to turn smoking into a noisy habit.
  9. 13:00 – Maureen starts cleaning Gareth’s room. Cue lots of banging noises.
  10. 13:15 – Maureen’s phone rings. She yells down line at prospective tenants. Fucking old people and mobile phones…
  11. 13:30 – Yappy dog turns up at police station in town two miles away. I know this, because Maureen’s on the phone again.
  12. 13:45 – Yappy dog and sister return to flat. Maureen scolds dog, then complains to sister about mess in Gareth’s room.
  13. 14:00 – Both ladies use toilets. Separately, obviously. But loudly.
  14. 14:05 – Operation Clean-Up Gareth’s Room begins. Much banging and hoovering and complaining.
  15. 15:00 – Loud bang on door. Prospective tenant shown round flat, along with prospective tenant’s family, friends, and some guy from off the street.
  16. 15:30 – Prospective tenant leaves. Clean-up (and ambient sound) resumes.
  17. 16:30 – Prospective tenant returns as clean-up ends, mercifully free of entourage. But still loud. She pays deposit, receives keys to Ben’s old room.
  18. 16:45 – Having utterly failed to sleep for the day – and with little over an hour to go before my alarm goes off – I get up and join the massive, swinging party going on in my fucking hallway.


Gareth’s room was a fucking disgrace. I know I’m not exactly a tidy person, but there’s a fine line between “messy” and “biohazard”, and he was well-and-truly on the other side of it. Maureen, at one point, had to kneel down on the carpet for a brief second. When she got up, her jeans were covered in – I jest not – orange goo. There were substances around the room that may have been either congealed food or excrement.

On the plus side, there was no left-over washing-up. On the negative side, this may be because Gareth apparently does not know the purpose of crockery. It looked like the only plate he needed was his bedsheets.

He did actually, in fairness, own a spare set of sheets. He was storing them in the fireplace. I mean, fuck.

Anyway, I didn’t sleep too good.

Published in: on November 1, 2006 at 6:22 am  Comments (6)  

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6 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Could have been worse. Remember the thing that lived in the fridge at work? There could have been lots of little presents dotted around the room.

  2. I think he took his mates with him.

    Man, I’m turning into a right old bitch.

  3. You are an old sad man.


  4. No, I’m not. I’m happy and young. Won’t be long till you’re older than me. Chris was younger than me when I first met him. Melvin never was, though. He’s always been ollllld.

  5. Melvin isn’t old. He’s eternal. Time has no meaning for him anymore. Not after all those years at TI…

    One day you’ll be at some comic-con or other and he’ll whip out his sword [steady…] and chop off someone’s head, before a panoply of mid-eighties CGI erupts around him as he proclaims ‘there can be only one.’

  6. […] will they?”. Occasionally, I was known to get somewhat frustrated, both with the job and with the hours, but I got by happily enough before leaving on good terms with my […]

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