Student Waste Binb

Last week my wife and I took one of our regular trips to York with the
intention of visiting our youngest daughter, who is attending university in
that fine city.

I say that she is attending this honoured place of learning without any
real evidence of this being true.

Back in the days of primary school we parents were almost completely
connected to the education process; letters from teachers, parent’s
evenings, assemblies all added to this connection.

By the time your children start to become embarrassed by your every move
they are protected by the high school years.

Then, before you can get used to sight of their first piercings, your
offspring are heading towards adulthood.

If it weren’t for the regular depletions from your bank balance and the
occasional Facebook messages you wouldn’t really know that university

On this recent trip our stated agenda was to visit our daughter and have a
spot of lunch. Not once was I told that we would spend a good amount of our
time cleaning her room and repairing various broken items.

Not that I resent this; I tend to be grateful for any contact with our
daughters even if I am valued by my usefulness.

What I mind is our continual pretence that we are making the forty-mile
journey merely for lunch.

As we began to wade through several months’ worth of student debris I
couldn’t help notice that although the floor was completely covered,
neither the waste bin nor the wash basket contained any items.

I commented that these containers resembled by bank account but mum and
daughter we enjoying putting clothes in the wardrobe. I have occasionally
tried this myself but I can’t say that I understand the thrill.

I think my enjoyment has been somewhat quashed by the constant comments
offered by my bride. It seems that you cannot count it as a successful
exercise if all the hangers are not placed on the rail facing the same way.
I tried to ask why this was important but my wife answered in her customary
fashion ‘If you don’t know then I cant explain it’.

I have a suspicion that it might be woman code for ‘I don’t really know
but I wont admit it’.

Either way, my youngest daughter and my bride of nearly thirty years, both
seemed to understand the rules of engagement without need for explanation.

Once the room was good enough to be photographed, and the said pic was
uploaded to Facebook, we headed off for lunch.

Before long my wife and I were reminiscing about our own student days and
Mrs Molineaux’s youngest commented about the similarities with her

Our parents would often ask us about our studies and we would offer only
monosyllabic replies; much as our daughters have done to us.

‘Did you keep your rooms tidy’ our precious offspring enquired. We laughed
and then I pointed out that in comparison she was living in relative

My waste bin was a plastic shopping bag and I used a pillowcase to hold my
washing. I confess that I did occasionally tidy up if things became too

‘You have more motivation to clean your room’ Mrs M informed our daughter
‘So that the Facebook photograph looks good’.