Educating REE, ta!

Ok, so my teenage son - The REE (Resident Expert on Everything) has been quite happily settled in Cape Town for the last couple of months, though I am not sure that Cape Town is equally happy about that arrangement.  I did send the mayor (Alderman Patricia de Lille) a memo regarding his arrival, a sort of list of his most er… unconventional habits, but have heard nothing in reply.

Actually I was quite shocked about that. I thought such community mindedness on my side would at least garner some sort of appreciation from her offices (I even included a suggested 'gift list' to make the job easier for her) But no - not a dicky bird from even her secretary.  Perhaps she thought my letter a bit strange - I'm not sure if she has ever had teenage children herself, so I can understand if she doesn’t quite grasp the implications of  '30 day Cheesy Sock' in an urban community (something similar to Koeberg?) or  indeed how a pile of  two months' dirty dishes may affect the skyline.

But I am glad to announce that for the next few weeks the lad is returning to his old stomping grounds, here in Sedgefield. Yes, there was much excitement when we learned he was coming, especially when we heard, via the grapevine, that he has acquired an education whilst there in the Mother City!  In only two months - isn't that absolutely amazing?

Of course I am not referring to his formal education - my goodness no.  Updating that to acceptable levels will surely take dozens of years, and perhaps some sort of electric shock therapy….. (I long for the day that I hear him talk about“Borrowing some money from so and so” instead of Lending it from them.  - Not only because of the correct English  but also because my name isn't 'So and so'.)

No, his newfound education is apparently that of a domestic nature.  You see, shacking up in a small, not particularly well ventilated flat with a friend of his of the same age (HRRRRNNN-GGGGHHH!  Sorry - that was a chill making it's way down my spine) has rather accentuated some of their old habits. Daily behaviour which previously hovered around the 'Socially Unacceptable' mark - according to Dian Fossey's Study on Central African Gorilla Behavior that is - has now tipped the scale to 'Downright Dangerous, Potentially Fatal. Culling Should Be Considered'. 

For the sake of any squeamish readers I won't go into too much detail, suffice to say that the two young men apparently discovered that plates and other eating implements not only refuse to wash themselves, but also start smelling rather baaaaad when left in a pile for weeks at a time.  Different, though equal in intensity, is the rank odour of worn underwear (that's 'worn' in both senses of the word), running vests, and of course, the infamous 30 day cheesy sock.

  At first this did not stress them in the slightest. Indeed it was not a problem at all when kept in the confines of their own home, especially when they were under the impression that they were the only two affected by the resultant ‘Aromanoxious Maximus’ (they honestly had no idea about the petition circulating the neighborhood). But when it started cramping their style on a social level, they realized something had to be done.  You see it wasn't just a case of both of them arriving at their respective colleges with egg on their faces… and melted cheese on their shirts… and old, hardened, two-fortnight noodles on their shoes…, there was also the problem of 'having mates round'.

Let me explain.  If you cast your memories back to when you first got your own place, you will probably agree that one of the greatest new-found freedoms was the fact that you could nonchalantly 'have mates round', whenever you wanted… EVEN ON WEEK NIGHTS. 
“Hey, just come round  anytime, whenever, even after you've been to the pub….”  you would offer.

Yes, admit it! You would flippantly invite anyone and everyone.  In fact, talking of pubs, I remember one of my favourite 'things to do after 16 beers' when I was that age was to announce “Ok everyone  let's go back to my place…. for a PARTY!”

But such generous hospitality will only have the desired effect once or twice when you have a fungal jungle growing out of your kitchen sink, your clothes are playing a rather sweaty rugby match by themselves in the lounge, and your bathroom has simply erupted. 

And if the crowd of 'Mates Coming Round' includes members of the OS (Opposite Sex), then your style will rapidly join your two metre square bedsit in being totally and irreparably cramped.

So as the story goes, The REE and his flatmate - let’s call him 'Friend X' (that's the name the investigating scientists have given him) have recently started doing something previously deemed impossible….. cleaning up. Yes, according to the report-back information we have acquired from various spies brave enough to enter the Vrot Flat, there has been a marked improvement.

Not being a gullible man, I first thought that some sort of natural 'self cleaning' phenomenon had occured. (I once read that if human hair is not washed for some weeks, it starts producing its own oils which somehow make it clean again, so I thought that this may be the case with my son's clothing, dishes and the flat itself -  which you must admit is a far more easy-to-believe theory than the boys actually doing their own housework).  But no, I have been proven wrong.   Indeed a real adult actually caught them mopping the bathroom floor recently - though she could not give me exact details having sworn an oath of secrecy to both lads, in exchange for the borrowing of a student card.

Which leads me to another odd part of this story.  On hearing of her son's pending arrival, Mrs Ed has been behaving like a woman possessed.  Not only is she totally and unreasonably cheerful 36 hours a day, but she is cleaning.  CLEANING ….. for a teenager?  Does it make sense?  I thought that was like hunting for a vegetarian? 

Now please understand, I'm not talking about the usual bit of half -hearted dusting-with-the-occasional-spitting-on-a-cloth- and-wiping.  No, I mean the real, crazy-woman, mother-in-law-is-visiting sort of cleaning.  Every spare minute she can find she's vacuuming the bread bin, or toothbrushing the light bulbs, or ear-budding the key-holes. And that constant cheery humming of “Mother and Child Reunion” in Z flat major is scaring the birdlife away, honestly!

So I am living in a house that you would think the Prince of Wales himself was about to….. Hang on….  Wow!  Sorry I have to go - I just received an email from the Mayor de Lille's office.  Apparently after researching the 30 Day Cheesy Sock theorem in depth, she wants to set up a commission to investigate ways of harnessing that phenomenal chemical / heat energy for the creation of electrical power! And they plan to add it to the national grid.…

Considering they have The REE and Friend X for at least another 36 months…
They'd be mad if they didn't!