A former colleague (now retired and living in a quite beautiful house in Devon which cost about £3.50 - but enough about my bitterness) used to classify household tasks as either "Blue" or "Pink". Blue tasks were, not surprisingly, undertaken solely by boys and pink by girls. This is a classification system I have adopted as I find it extremely useful and, better still, I find it can be manipulated to suit my whims. For example - the sort of task that can be classed as blue is as follows:-
Anything involving poo
Anything involving puke (I can do blood, but I'm not good with vom)
Dead animals
Gizzards of dead animals
Taking rubbish out
Anything heavy
Anything that involves going outside after dark or in the rain
You get the general picture?
To be fair, Pink tasks take in practically everything else and involve a lot of loo cleaning and general drudgery, so I don't feel too guilty. This morning however, was one gigantic blue task.
Tottered downstairs, accompanied by the faithful Paddy who, instead of making for the food bowl, rushed under the dining table. Whoops! Very bad sign. This means that there is a dead mouse or something similar under there which, having ignored it since it shuffled off its mortal coil, he is now licking tenderly and guarding with a low growl. Great. Haul a couple of chairs out of the way in order to gain access and a clear view of dead rodent. Oh no. No dead rodent - just a carpet of feathers and the corpse of what looks like a morbidly obese pigeon. Thanks lads! Do not like birds at the best of times and immediately think of my late father and hear his voice in my ear, castigating me for not disembowelling and plucking it immediately - eeeeewwwwwwww.
Instead, I do the sensible, feminist thing and shriek loudly for the Shah who lumbers down muttering oaths under his breath. Approaches the scene of the crime and concurs "that's one big mother!" Once we actually get the poor thing out from under the table, we start to wonder at the cats' ingenuity at actually mananging to force a 3 stone pigeon through the catflap. Frankly, they must have hired feckin' Pickfords to get it in. "To me - to you. Left wing down a bit, mate."
This has, of course, sucked up a good twenty minutes of my morning and I get out to the car to find that not only have I not factored in enough time for de-icing but a neighbour has kindly parked me in.
Meanwhile, I have inveigled the Shah into taking TD to the local hospital for a minor Orthodontic procedure. Needless to say, we have lost the original letter but (happily) can remember the time and date of the appointment. Consequently, The Shah and TD rock up to...the wrong hospital. Oi vey! It's the other hospital in the partnership! So they hightail it over to the other hospital only to be told that, rather than have the expected procedure performed then and there, this is an appointment to make an appointment to get onto the waiting list......marvellous! For this, she has missed almost an entire morning of school?
Clearly Andy Burnham, the role of Secretary of State for Health should not be a Blue job.
Anything involving poo
Anything involving puke (I can do blood, but I'm not good with vom)
Dead animals
Gizzards of dead animals
Taking rubbish out
Anything heavy
Anything that involves going outside after dark or in the rain
You get the general picture?
To be fair, Pink tasks take in practically everything else and involve a lot of loo cleaning and general drudgery, so I don't feel too guilty. This morning however, was one gigantic blue task.
Tottered downstairs, accompanied by the faithful Paddy who, instead of making for the food bowl, rushed under the dining table. Whoops! Very bad sign. This means that there is a dead mouse or something similar under there which, having ignored it since it shuffled off its mortal coil, he is now licking tenderly and guarding with a low growl. Great. Haul a couple of chairs out of the way in order to gain access and a clear view of dead rodent. Oh no. No dead rodent - just a carpet of feathers and the corpse of what looks like a morbidly obese pigeon. Thanks lads! Do not like birds at the best of times and immediately think of my late father and hear his voice in my ear, castigating me for not disembowelling and plucking it immediately - eeeeewwwwwwww.
Instead, I do the sensible, feminist thing and shriek loudly for the Shah who lumbers down muttering oaths under his breath. Approaches the scene of the crime and concurs "that's one big mother!" Once we actually get the poor thing out from under the table, we start to wonder at the cats' ingenuity at actually mananging to force a 3 stone pigeon through the catflap. Frankly, they must have hired feckin' Pickfords to get it in. "To me - to you. Left wing down a bit, mate."
This has, of course, sucked up a good twenty minutes of my morning and I get out to the car to find that not only have I not factored in enough time for de-icing but a neighbour has kindly parked me in.
Meanwhile, I have inveigled the Shah into taking TD to the local hospital for a minor Orthodontic procedure. Needless to say, we have lost the original letter but (happily) can remember the time and date of the appointment. Consequently, The Shah and TD rock up to...the wrong hospital. Oi vey! It's the other hospital in the partnership! So they hightail it over to the other hospital only to be told that, rather than have the expected procedure performed then and there, this is an appointment to make an appointment to get onto the waiting list......marvellous! For this, she has missed almost an entire morning of school?
Clearly Andy Burnham, the role of Secretary of State for Health should not be a Blue job.
