Locust

Before I was married, I rented a super swish bachelor girl flat on Tollgate Drive with my barrister flat mate Katie Bancroft. She thought she taught me everything I knew.

Katie constantly reminded me she had a promising future, if only she could get one of the super boys she worked with to marry her. To Katie's utter horror, they kept dating the wrong sort of girl... She never liked or approved of James.

"He says he works for Comet for Gods sake," she jeered.

At one point, much to Katie's disgust her Australian cousin came to stay with us. Matt was travelling - a backpacker, and said he simply intended to 'crash' on our sofa for a couple of days, but he became rather too comfortable for Katie's refined tastes and days soon ran into months.

Matt was the modern day London equivalent of a locust. Katie and I ate out most days of the week, our fridge was normally bear apart perhaps from a small stick of lemon grass, an apple and an open jar of Pasta Gusto Sauce with fur growing in the lid. With this veritable feast - Matt could add rice and make a stir fry. I am not joking, he was like a human vacuum cleaner. He would shout out to us as we left for work in the morning:

"Bring back bread, milk, pasta and beer" etc.

Once Matt arrived, he seemed to intend to stay forever, punctuating his visit by welcoming passing Antipodean chums to join him on our living room floor. He was a lovely guy, and made himself more than comfortable. I enjoyed his company and sense of humour, but Katie was terribly frustrated, and could not work out a way of politely regaining the use of our living room. I never knew a successful barrister who was inarticulate or lacked the ability to manipulate a situation.

I remember Matt complaining bitterly one evening:

"I am a qualified chiropodist, not a beautician,"

to which I simply informed him that unless he wanted to be a homeless qualified chiropodist - he should damn well get on with my second coat, and further, he was not as far as I was aware - a chef, but he was to cook my supper when he was finished.

Oh how we laughed...

Eventually he moved out (er ... escaped). I have found in life, there are many ways to achieve the required outcome. Men really are in my experience - simple creatures. No-one has ever ironed my Eqyptian cotton sheets and pillow cases quite so well as Matt...