OK. To say that the news that my eldest son was returning to live with me on a full time basis (at very short notice) was unexpected would be something of an understatement. It mildly unhinged me, briefly.
I had reached the point where I expected that I would never be co-habiting with another human being again. Furry creatures, maybe. I think I will always be happy with a single and singular cat, but Guinea Pigs have a certain charm. I think I would have needed three, and named them after three intellectual colossi. Nietzsche, Einstein, and Bungle from Rainbow.
In keeping with my new found status as Guinea-Pig-Man, I could have commissioned a giant helium-filled inflatable Guinea Pig to attach to my roof, and installed a flagpole in the back yard for a Guinea Pig emblazoned flag, appended with a suitable motto.
We came. We saw. We nibbled a bit of celery.
It’s not as if I have anyone to impress any more.
But as I say, such plans are now very much on the back burner as I now have an adolescent male to deal with on a daily basis. Having necessarily adjusted to the new circumstances in short order, I rather think it will be Good For Me.
I have previously lamented my lack of attention to diet (see Mum’s pancakes are rubbish ) in my new status as eccentric bachelor, but that all changes once I have someone else to feed. My son may well save me from the plight of scurvy.
All good things come to a natural end, sooner or later. I do not expect him to live with me forever. It may, I now realise, be necessary to advertise for an eater once he has gone to pastures new. My requirements would be simple. To come round to my house three times a week, and let me cook them dinner. All tastes catered for, and whilst they can bring a bottle of wine if they please, that is strictly optional. In addition:
- Please converse over dinner, and not about reality TV, celebrities, or how dreadful their job is.
- Try and avoid telling me that I suck (unless I behave inappropriately).
- Promise that they will stick to subjects that they actually care about. I will be interested to find out what they are, and empathetic too.
After dinner, the appointee would be free to do as they please. Leave, read a book, or knit
three four-dimensional bananas. Whatever they wish. As a bonus, I could throw in some emotional support, kindness, and/or jokes, free of charge, and free of unwarranted man-advice (actually the whole service would be free).
I estimate that the substantial improvement to my eating habits might well add another 10 years to my life, so they would be doing me a huge favour.