More evidence of bad motheritis and although I suspect many of us are guilty of this sin, not many of us (possibly just me) are foolish enough to announce it in a public forum.
Cast your mind back to times spent with young male students, (go on, you know you can if you try, the therapy won't be too bad.) and remember the laundry basket.
There seem to be two types of YMS, the "I looked at it so it needs washing again" or the "I have peeled it off and it's standing in the corner over there" variety, both generate vast, daunting heaps of washing. Boy child is a member of the former group.
The following is a direct reporting of a conversation that took place over three days on his return from uni.
"Have I got your washing yet ?"
"Oh, er, right, er, what ?"
"That stuff on your floor covering the carpet"
"Well can I have it please ? I want to get it going"
"Ooh, washing, ok, er what wants washing ?"
Things are becoming a little terse by now
"Bedding, clothes, more clothes possibly. I'm not actually certain BC as it is your washing, oh and don't forget to check your pockets"
"Pockets, why ?"
"Because the best way to ruin a memory stick is for it to go through the machine, and if I find any money it is mine" (I find it best to try and speak his language)
Time passes, dynasties fall, Big Brother is cancelled.
"Have I got your washing BC ?"
"FFS BC, yes now, and check your pockets !"
Like a slow moving torrent the clothes made their way downstairs
"Thanks BC, so, everything here ?"
"Er, yeah, well I don't know, guess so"
"Have you checked your pockets"
"Oh God Mum you do go on......"
"So, you have checked ?"
And that is how I came to be in possession of £15.
Notes from a train journey in Middle England
7 hours ago