At last the Quinquennial builders have finished decorating and twiddling with our house. On their last day they had a fair bit to finish up and rushed around trying to tie up all the loose ends but they didn’t quite have time for everything. One loose end that they missed was the wire feeding electricity to our burglar alarm. The battery gave up at 5.20am the next morning. And then the alarm decided it had been tampered with and proceeded to go off almost constantly throughout Thursday until the alarm people came to sort it out.
As you can imagine, we were rather spacey throughout the day. My irritation was tempered, however, by the cheese mystery….
As the chaps were pottering around the house on their final day I had decided to sort out the airing cupboard, which I needed to finish emptying and restock with sheets and towels that had been soaked in an earlier Quinquennial mishap. I went in to get the final bits and pieces out and… discovered a cheese.
It was a Sunday night Vicarage supper cheese that I’d bought a couple of weeks ago. I’d wondered where it was on the previous Sunday evening. And there it was. Sitting in my airing cupboard. Not oozing or stinking yet, but perfectly ripe and ready to eat. A cheese mystery. And to date the mystery is unsolved. All Vicarage inhabitants deny putting cheese in the airing cupboard. Perhaps I did it in my sleep – maybe it’s a sign that I need to go on holiday sooner rather than later.
One Twitter friend suggested that perhaps I would then find perfectly ironed linen in my fridge, but alas I only found some wizened ginger and lots of jars of obscure oriental relishes.
In the meantime, the mystery of the airing cupboard cheese makes me laugh every time I think of it. And we are considering leaving all our cheese in the airing cupboard in the future. As long as we don’t leave it there too long.