A Morbid Desire to Test Child Locks

You know the thing. When someone says “Don’t!” you instantly want to “Do!” Anyway, I’ve been told NOT to head into the loft at the new place because it’s infested. It’s probably infested by tree surgeons, carpenters and assorted odd job men brewing up. But, in fact, it’s a wasps’ nest. When they move out I’ll venture up to see what kind of mess they’ve left even though I’ve been told not to.

I was about to throw out two old cupboard doors, but I now realise I can use them to cover the uncovered water tanks I’ve been told are up there. I’m fascinated by  uncovered water tanks in the loft. I know it’s only water we wash in and water that goes round inside the radiators, but even so, what could be decomposing in there? I need to know.

Last night I sorted through hundreds of old vinyl I possess. I know it’s a no-no, but it’s a sprawling collection that stretches from 1976 to 1992. I reckon the last vinyl I bought was Nirvana Nevermind. The first one I bought was a Top of the Pops collection from 73 with Sweet and T-Rex badly covered. That’s no longer there, but plenty of things have survived that I can send charitywise, for example, an immaculate Stevie Wonder Secret Life of Plants. I never liked that album. It’s definitely worth something which is why I’m sending it to a charity shop as a donation. Believe me the time in setting up Ebay to auction the whole lot just wouldn’t be worth it and I need the space and time right now. You have to photograph it, describe the condition blah. Describe the condition? This stuff hasn’t seen light for twenty years. Maybe a record collector in Wiltshire would come and take the lot away for a tenner because the sleeves look good. No, no, no, it’s far easier to bundle it in the car than wait for someone who probably won’t turn up. The sleeves do look good though. I’d like to chuck away the vinyl and keep the sleeves because they’re bigger and better than CD sleeves.

Right. I hear the child lock on the washing machine finally releasing its hold and returning my washing from the other world it’s inhabited for 1 hour 45 minutes. What tales it can tell of that strange place where it soaks and rinses and spins in a dangerous and frightening way. I wonder why they put glass in the front. Is it so I can watch out for the frightening and dangerous things to appear, things that are forbidden? It recently went through a phase of not completely draining and unloading a few pints of water on my crocs when I open the door just for a laugh. But child locks. Child locks are there to be tested.

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