Dysfunctional household?

Our house is held together with araldite.

I am keeping an eye on some chicken bits that are roasting while JP is out on a run. The reason I need to keep my eye on it is not to make sure it doesn’t burn but to make sure it actually continues to cook. Because we have one of those ovens that switch off at random intervals throughout the cooking process. You know, the ones, don’t you? The ones that silently turn themselves off half an hour before your chicken is due out of the oven, or five minutes after you’ve put it in. The beauty of it is its unpredictability. So you can never moan that cooking is boring. And, as luck would have it, we also have a matching hob – it has four rings of assorted sizes but only three work and we’ve been managing fine on three rings for about eight months...not that I’m counting or anything. But now the oven has joined its malfunctioning mate and that really does make providing meals for a family of six or seven, or more if you count the odd boyfriend, more of a challenge.

Yesterday JP came downstairs with the door, the entire door, of the tumble drier in his hand muttering about Araldite – I swear our house is held together with the stuff. Apparently the hinge is broken so we can’t use it as it’s bound to fall off on someone’s foot, and they’re quite heavy those tumble drier doors. The shelves in the door of the fridge are held together with a combination of screws and araldite or similar and the drawers of the freezer have to be seen to be believed. Honestly, I’m not kidding. The ones that we can actually open have bloody great chunks ripped out of the plastic where we’ve pulled too hard, given the amount of ice surrounding them, and pieces of the drawers have simply torn off in our hands. Talk about a dysfunctional household – the boiler switches itself on and off whenever it feels the urge, and anyway if you switch the hot water on, the radiators roar into life as if you had requested that the central heating is fired up; the kitchen sink has a crack in it which has been there since we moved in six years ago. UniGirl’s bed is broken and needs a strong bit of string – see, what am I saying? What the hell am I saying? Needs a strong piece of string? That can’t be normal can it, to react like that when one’s offspring’s bedsprings have sprung? There is a large crack in the hall ceiling, which happens to be directly under the bath, only two out of seven of our downlights in the kitchen work at any one time otherwise the fuses blow, the vacuum cleaner switches off just as randomly as the oven and the boiler, and for God’s sake don’t even get me started on the state of the shower – Is this what they mean by a dysfunctional household?

Two days later.....

On the other hand, I have some rather wonderful things to say about our household. The beauty of living with teenagers is that they can actually do things, really useful things - like walking dogs, emptying dishwashers, popping to the local shops for bread and milk, washing up and.... cooking. Oh, the cooking that occasionally occurs really is the business. To have a gorgeous meal prepared for you on a week night, after a hard day’s work, by willing, capable and competent people you’ve brought into the world (though not necessarily for that purpose)...well, it really is a treat.

Last night after I got home from work, for instance, 6thFormGirl and I had to go shopping for some proper smart clothes for her to wear for work experience next week at a top London law firm. (her usual fabulous style is as tad boho.) I was hot, hungry, tired, and a bit stressed about our dear dog Virginia Woof, who is suffering from itchy skin and for whom we’ve tried so many tactics and remedies, all of them less than satisfactory. It took two hours to find an ensemble, which may or may not be suitable, but is elegant and smart and she looks exquisite in it. When we got home we were knackered and hungry and we found a sight to gladden the eyes and heart. Lovely UniGirl was installed in the kitchen, cheerily grating ginger and squeezing limes for her salmon in filo pastry recipe.

After initial start-of-evening-greetings all round, JP and I had some time on our own to chat and watch the news while this culinary delight was being prepared. Bliss. 6thFormGirl had been out to buy the extra salmon needed to feed us all, and UniGirl’s boyfriend Welsh dashed out at the last minute to buy sweet chilli dip from the local takeaway. By the time we were called to the table, the kids had laid it and there were six perfect filo parcels and green beans arranged on a platter in the middle of the table. God, they are feeding us better than we feed them! (though obviously not nearly as often) The point is, this was a voluntary act of UniGirl’s and there was co-operation involved, from darling JP doing the week's shopping in the first place to all the other contributions, and there was good will, and appreciation all round. Afterwards, as has happily become the custom, the ones who didn’t cook and prepare supper did the clearing up. There was no one person who did everything. Although, a special thanks goes to UniGirl for the delicious dinner.

I did feel quite awful though about the fact that, inevitably, the oven was up to its tricks again.
UniGirl: Mum, the oven's just turned off.
Me: Oh, yes, it does that now.
UniGirl: Does it? Oh.
Me: JP! The oven's gone off again, can you do your trick?
UniGirl: It's ok! It's come back on! Oh, no it's gone off again...
JP: Have you tried twisting the knob all the way round and then back again?
UniGirl: It's fine now. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on it.

I am sitting in the kitchen now, having done something to the knobs with knives and WD40, wondering how long our chicken's going to take tonight...