Meet the housemates

I’ve just realised that I haven’t told you all about my housemates. And obviously you’ll be wanting to hear all about them.


So I live in a 4 bedroom house. (Actually it’s a 3 bedroom, but what would be the downstairs living room is a bedroom as landlords are wont to do to get more cashola in.) I live in what would be the Master bedroom and I’ve treated you to a little view in this post.

I currently live with 2 housemates. There were 3 but one moved out a few weeks after I moved in (totally a coincidence I would like to add) and the downstairs bedroom has had some building and redecorating work done on it since then so it’s just been the 3 of us for the past month or so.

It’s kind of cool actually because we’ve all moved in at pretty much the same time, meaning that we’ve been able to set up our own way of living and our own routines, rather than having to awkwardly fit in with someone else....like the poor 4th housemate is going to have to do when they move in mwhahahahaha.

So anyway I have 2 housemates. One boy and one girl.

The girl is Scottish so let’s be imaginative and call her The Scot. (I know. Don’t be jealous of my creativity people.) The Scot is actually kind of like me only about half my size and blonde. And Scottish. She is certainly the only person that I’ve met that gets as excited about cleaning products as I do and has an almost borderline obsession with Cillit Bang. This is good though because it means that there are at least two of us that are maniacally clean people.

The Scot is very straight-forward and has a pretty dry sense of humour so we get on very well. We’re still getting to know each other but I think we’ve had kind of similar upbringings and kind of similar views on life. She is single but does have a list of things she’s looking for in a man which is added to on an almost daily basis.

Then there is the male housemate. He is 31 and a trainee teacher but seems to be totally unprepared to actually grow up and face the harsh realities of life. We shall call him Peter Pan. I sometimes struggle to get my head around Peter Pan because I find it almost too difficult to comprehend how someone can actually revel in their immaturity as much as he does. He thinks it’s hilarious.

He’s terribly easy-going and although he’s not naturally clean and tidy he’s happy to do as he’s told and works well under direction. The Scot and I can set him the task of hoovering and he will quite happily do it but under no circumstances would he think to do it himself. But then I think that’s most men if you will allow me to generalise.

To be fair he doesn’t make that much mess. Particularly in the kitchen, although this is mainly because he doesn’t appear to eat. I’ve never known anyone go on a food jag quite like Peter Pan. Now I’m all for making a big massive pot of chilli in one go, it just makes sense, and then I will freeze portions and have a nice little stockpile in the freezer for days when I can’t be bothered to cook. Peter Pan will do the same but will then eat the same meal every. single. day. Not even I could do that.

Pizzas are his latest jag. He will make his own dough which is all very impressive and then will eat pizza every day for a week. Think I’m exaggerating? Last week Peter Pan had pizza on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, an omelette on Sunday and t hen pizza again on Monday and Tuesday. I kid you not.

I could write many a blog post about Peter Pan and I suspect he will feature on this blog pretty heavily because I will need to share more about him just so you can sit and stare at your screen in incredulity.

So there you have it. Those are The Housemates as they stand. I wonder who our next victim will be...