A friend of mine has been playing hostess to a young relative for several months. He tipped up from his home in foreign parts with vague thoughts of maybe working, maybe not, and has been pootling happily around London ever since, lucky thing, his options open, his horizons wonderfully wide and a comfortable home with three square meals a day at his disposal. My friend, grappling with all the fun and games that three teenage daughters can bring, could no doubt have done without an extra teenager on her hands but has got on with it all, as you do.
She returned from half term hols with her girls a day or so after her husband, to find that he had suddenly sent the young sprig packing. What on earth had gone on?
The story eventually emerged.
The lad had had a friend over to stay while the family was away and they had done what all teenage boys do – not much, and with maximum mess and filth. Eventually, all the loos in the house (apart from the parents’ swish ensuite) started running out of toilet roll. Did the boys consider popping to the shops? They did not. They just moved their custom from loo to loo until the paper was exhausted. The father arrived home into this domestic meltdown, was unimpressed by the way his lovely home was suffering, but had to leave almost immediately for a meeting. Before he left, sensing a loo roll crisis was imminent, he annexed the last remaining toilet paper in the house and hid it in a cupboard in the parental ensuite. Then he went off to work.
Late that evening, after a day of toil, he returned home – to find that the boys were still firmly planted on the sofa, the kitchen was still awash with dishes, and his secret stash was gone. Yes, that’s right. His loo had been looted.
And the boys were then booted.
