They're back

Oh no. My flatmates were away last week, so I had the place to myself. Yes, 7 glorious days of uninterrupted bliss. Regular readers will know that I consider my flatmates to be both clinically insane and highly irritating, not to mention freakish in the extreme. So their return does not fill me with joy, especially as I was anticipating the ‘hil-ar-ious’ tales of their holiday in Spain. Basically, they’re the kind of people who relish the fact that they ate the ‘full English’ breakfast, replete with the ubiquitous baked beans, EVERY DAY.

The Tall One was back first. She launched into a story about the Elvis impersonator they had seen at the hotel, which seemed to go on for days, and then told me she had done some sketching whilst on the beach. It’s all my own fault – I feign interest you see, for a quiet life. She showed me her sketches. Of topless women. On the beach. Deep, deep denial there.

After the excitement of that, and the thrilling running commentary on which clothes she had worn, which she would have to handwash etc., – here’s a heads up: if I walk away from you whilst you are talking, you can stop. If I say, loudly, that I am actually watching the tennis on tv, then turn the sound up, you can stop. As I was saying, after that, she returned to her usual routine of talking constantly about herself, and making a lot of noise wherever she happens to be in the flat. I usually try to tune her out, but sometimes, it’s just impossible. Like last night. We were watching tv, and she was drinking her duty-free quadruple X strength vodka, I was focusing on the tv program, but then there was an ad break, and I could hear a clicking sound. I looked round and she was biting her nails and chewing them and then spitting them out, into the ashtray. Maybe that doesn’t sound so bad to you. Maybe I'm just being picky. But I couldn’t not notice it then – it was there, the movement, in the corner of my eye, just on the edge of my field of vision. And it didn’t stop. Well, not until she fell asleep/passed out and started snoring. Loudly. She snores like a man. An overweight man aged about 65, I’d say. I’ve been in this predicament before, so knowing she wouldn’t wake up, I adjusted her head to stop the snoring, and left her where she was. I’ve got to get out of there. The Short One is due back today…