Here’s the story of mouldy cheese, juicy bacon, and a Syrian hamster.
I’d quite like to be a hamster. I mean, I haven’t given it a great deal of thought, but, you know, as I was walking to the bus stop from work the other day, I just started thinking about my niece’s hamster and how swell life must be for her. I mean, okay, hamsters rarely live beyond three years, which sure, is around 0.15 human years, but still… they don’t have a worry in the world. They just spend all day rolling around in a plastic sphere and eating carrots with their strangely miniature human hands. I wasn’t having a good day. I’d already fallen over on the bus, covered in hot grease and attacked by a dog trying to steal my bread, so really… all I’m asking is to be reincarnated as a hamster. Is it too much to ask, really? Don’t tell me people don’t come back as things. I swear my old creepy neighbour has come back as that cat that keeps following me around…
Oh, really, you don’t need to worry about me after my tumble on the bus. No, no… stop it. Come on, stop it. You don’t need to worry about me. Not at all. Please, don’t… oh, you actually don’t care? Oh. Okay. Sniff. I’m not too bad. I think I need a new elbow, but apart from that.
I’m still on my own. So not being able to bend my elbow made for an interesting trip to the shops. I haven’t grown too fond of shopping, something mother normally does, in particular because the shops are a 25 minute walk away, I needed so much stuff, and it is 30 degrees and climbing. Honestly, I was ridiculously hot when I came home. The amount of steam coming off me would have been enough to power London…
You shoulda seen the state of me. I had two huge bags packed with drinks, meat, chocolate, and… erm, more meat. I mean, so much meat. I got that from one shop. And I then I went into another. Ending up with a paper under my arm, a packet of chocolate between my teeth, some stuff under my left arm, and a hand full of stuff. Now, some would say, “Why didn’t you get a trolley?” I don’t like paying. And they don’t have those cute little handheld ones. I know you have to pay because people keep stealing the trolleys, but still. “Oh, but you know everyone has those little plastic doodads nowadays, right?” SHUSH! They’re illegal! My mum has loads of ‘em. These little plastic discs you put into the coin slot so you don’t have to pay. Yeah, the shops aren’t happy about them, but I now have enough trolleys to make a very strange house out of them. So why didn’t I use the plastic discs? Erm, I… erm, forgot. Ahem.
I had to give up my shopping and do the rest the next day. When my arms had reattached themselves to the sockets. I’m not entirely sure how mum and dad are going to react to the money I’ve spent on food and drink. They only gave me a fiver. “Here, this is enough to live off for the next five weeks.” Hmm. In retrospect, I perhaps shouldn’t have bought as much bacon as I have done. Looking at the receipts, I’ve gone through four packs, 62 slices, in just five weeks. That would be 644 slices in one year! That’s, roughly, 27 pigs in a year. I mean, vegetarians might be horrified by those statistics, but I feel nothing but pride. At least I think what I’m feeling is pride. I taste copper and my left arm has gone numb…
I have enjoyed living on my own. These nearly five weeks have given me a glimpse into a future where I’m living on my own permanently and have to do so much more than I do now. Id est, nothing. I know some would say that feeling pride for being a normal adult isn’t anything to write home about, but even the thought of going to the shops terrified me. And I can’t tell you why. All I know is that I’ve learnt a lot.
I’ve learnt not to be afraid of a tired till lady at the end of her shift literally throwing a packet of sausages at me. Seriously. She flung ‘em right at me! I don’t know if you’ve ever had a Cumberland sausage thrown at your noggin’ but it doesn’t half hurt. Although, on that note, I’ve also learnt that Danish bacon wrapped around Cumberland sausages is the second nicest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Honestly, give me the opportunity to be the first man on Mars or to eat the last Danish/Cumberland combo anywhere on Earth, I’d take the latter, I really would. Oh, yes, I’ve also gotten through a lot of sausages. Four packets, each containing 12 sausages. 48 sausages in five weeks! Still, that’s only, what… a seventh of one pig? I tell you what else I learnt, too. Danish bacon on top of homemade quarter pounders slathered in homemade cheese is, quite possibly, a challenger for the nicest thing I’ve ever eaten. And, hey, I only went through eight of those…
It’s amazing I’m two stone underweight, isn’t it? I should be 12 stone for my age and height and I’m nowhere near it. Food just goes right through me. Speaking of which, I’ve also learnt that, if you cover pasta in a whole load of cheese that you immediately realise tastes a touch ‘funky,’ for the love of God, don’t keep eating it. I have a hell of a mess to clean up in the bathroom.
I’ve also learnt that putting washing on the crummy clotheshorse from the ‘80s outside dries said clothes far more effectively than putting them in the dining room. I’ve learnt when one is having a hard day, one should not throw ones keys really hard at a wall, thus completely snapping the keys into little tincy pieces. Also applies to the fan. Yeah, I’ll need a new one of those now…
I learnt that the lawn mows itself. It’s been mowed several times, but not by me. And none of our neighbours has admitted to doing it. We have a mystery lawn mower! Lovely. I mean, he caked mother’s car in grass, but apart from that. I hope, when they come home later this week, she doesn’t walk into it thinking it’s a hedge.
I’ve learnt important things, too. Like managing my time and money. Not being as afraid of Iceland. The jury’s still out on Tesco. I’ve learnt that cleaning bathrooms is a necessary evil, albeit a disgusting one. “HOW IS THERE SO MUCH HAIR IN THIS DRAIN!” I also learn that Syrian hamsters are adorable. Yes, my niece’s hamster was adopted from Syria. Apparently, that’s now a thing. She really liked my shoes. When she was in her ball. She kept going back to my shoes, trying to grab them with her weird and freaky tiny human hands. I don’t know why. Maybe Sketcher’s have started making shoes out of hamsters…
I’ve learnt to rely on the kindness of others. That the Stagecoach bus company are, simultaneously, bastards and the loveliest people in the world. I’ve learn that stress can become you and, actually, even I get a little lonely, now and again. I mean, I swear, at one point, I started hallucinating. Oh, it was a horrible world I was seeing. Pigs were rebelling against me, for some unbeknownst reason.
I also learnt that pigeons really like cheese. Oh, you know that rancid old cheese I ate, which I mentioned earlier? Yeah, I don’t like throwing food away, so I put what was left of it in the back garden for the wildlife to eat. I couldn’t think of any other animals that eat cheese apart from humans, but, as it turns out… pigeons really, really like cheese.
Every day is a learning day!
British politician and Member of Parliament, Helen Joanne Cox (1974-2016), once said: “While we celebrate our diversity, what surprises me time and time again… is that we are far more united and have far more in common with each other than the things that divide us.”
Peace Out :|:
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