The seasons are changing, Summer has gone and Winter seems to be barging in without even giving Autumn a look in. So as every year, it’s time to have a deep clean, change wardrobes and get everything cosy and warm for the colder months ahead.
The heating has automatically kicked in this week and seems to have brought with it a funky kind of smell. I thought minor had left his trainers under the sofa, he knows his shoes are not allowed indoors due to the smell. But no, no shoes could be found.
The cat!! Has the cat brought in some ungodly human offering and I now have a decaying rat, bird or mouse in some remote corner of the house. The smell was certainly that of the rotting kind.
I swear I have looked under every bed, box, pile of clothes, rug and anything else that could possibly be hiding the offending stink. Nothing!!
I cannot find a bloody thing.
No one seems to have a clue. I asked the kids if they had any ideas and 3 little blank faces stared back at me.
“What smell Mummy?”
I asked hubs and with a shrug of his shoulders he said “Maybe your nose is too close to your arse.” A typical response from the man I am now destined to spend the rest of my bloody life with!! He was much more charming before I married him!
As the week passed the smell got worse, to the point that now everyone was moaning about it. I still had no idea what the hell had crawled into my home to die in a corner, some invisible corner at that!
We had jointly decided that the smell was definitely downstairs and in the vicinity of the dining room but still nothing could be found.
As always we sat down as a family on Sunday to Mummy’s Full Sunday Roast Lunch. This is somewhat of a tradition in the UK.
I nipped into the kitchen to fill the gravy boat and upon my return I caught my 7 year old shoving his roast beef down the back of the radiator. I have to admit I was somewhat impressed with his discretion. Had I not just been walking into the room from the kitchen I would have missed it.
He had stood up from the table and turned his back to sneeze. Some would think what wonderful manners he had to do such a thing but it was all part of his plot.
The little shit had been hiding his meat for about 3 months behind the radiator. He never mentioned that he was a budding vegetarian or I would have suggested no meat and more veg for him. In retrospect I remember a lot of sneezing around the table during Sunday lunch.
What I pulled out of the radiator was something that looked and smelled like something the cat had vomited. A grey wad of furry, decaying, decomposed, disgusting dirty meat.
Underneath the fresh slice of beef, slightly covered in gravy, was the maggot-ridden carcass of half a cow, wedged between the wall and the radiator.
The Sunday roast largely went to waste that day as you can imagine. Wriggly maggots on rotten meat and the stench that was released did nothing for anyone’s appetite.
My 7 year old now sits on the facing side of the table away from the radiator and has never been served beef since. That is solely due to the fact that since that day I have never been able to cook or eat beef again.
That image will stay with me forever.
Desperate Housewife ~ Karen UK