fat useless and lethargic

Fat and lethargic could aptly fit how I feel in that post-holiday-blues-come-down period. But I'm cheered by a nice weekend of seeing all my favorite people - in-laws nieces godsons best-est friends - maybe it was helped by lashings of rose and crisps and sun but I definitely don't feel as rubbish as I did 4 days ago. The fat bit is a natural fallout after spending two weeks binge eating runny French cheese.

The useless applies aptly to our recent temporary lodger Mr H - a sex-mad foul mouthed rude coarse mind-bogglingly twattish South African who has finally moved his god-awful motorbike from our front garden. He said he'd do it the day after he moved it into our front garden (flinging gravel left right and centre) and that was over a month ago. I was beginning to wonder whether his brain had made a return journey to South Africa and crashed into the ocean with the frozen urine they release 30,000ft above the sea but thankfully Mr H's brain is still intact and so is his sense of responsibility so his god-awful motorbike has now been moved to some other suckers front garden for probably another month. As a socially responsible citizen I wonder whether I should send an anonymous letter to warn them of their lodgers' tendencies to neglect.

I occasionally wondered, whilst Mr H took refuge under the sheets of our spare room, whether he had a small crush on Husband? It is possible that someone, after all, male or female, could fancy him. It was the sideways glances across the sitting room as they watched the cricket highlights together, or, Mr H returning home each night after work with a 6 pack of beer which he'd ply Husband with, whilst offering to massage Husbands gammy post-cricket knee injury... I don't recall past lodgers plying husband or me with anything except dirty washing and tension in the morning whilst we queued for the shower. What was going on behind the shut door of our spare room and why did Mr H refuse to let me hang up his washing when I needed to use the washing machine? Shamed by the number of pairs of pants or pj's had he had to wash over the weeks?

The thought is rather distasteful I agree.

Luckily he's now out of our hair and has taken his crush, motorbikes, beer and dreadful language to someone else's house. Good luck to them. (And, I learnt just recently, that Mr H's landlord is a man whose wife and kids have gone abroad for a few weeks, leaving him ALONE with Mr H... Is she mad? It's like a remake of Single White Female, but with a psychotic South African Man instead of the psychotic American Woman... what happened in the end..? Strike up the creepy violin music...)

JOKE!
Mr-very-brilliant-H! We loved having you to stay. Please come back and ply us with more beer and laughter and silly drawings for Mol and calling Liz Bob (I'M NOT BOOOOOOOOOOB she shouts with glee...) and telling us crazy stories about life in the beautiful South Africa and trying to persuade us to book overpriced flights to Cape Town in December for Christmas (I reckon if you'd stayed like just one more week you'd probably have clinched the deal...)... And Finally. Thank you for babysitting for us last night. You are a top lodger and a gold star goes on your resume.