5th July. The Fucking And The Fighting.

Last time I was round at the flat They were just moving in with a bright future ahead, now the flat was empty save for a certain amount of detritus - hair grips, one pence pieces, fluff. Back then the main concern was that the grill wasn't working and so He wouldn't be able to make cheese on toast "Can't live without cheese on toast! (Chuckle chuckle)." I remember scrabbling about looking at the back of the cooker in vain for a serial number. She was young but then so was He but not as young as She, I didn't want the grill to cast a shadow over their relationship. Still nothing further was heard about the grill malfunction as greater concerns must have taken hold, like the fact that they couldn't live together, with or without the cheese on toast. Well I was hoovering everywhere and under the Ikea bed some of the supporting struts had come adrift like the springing had taken more of its fair share of cyclical loading... Then, "They must have had a fight!" pronounced IB indicating that one wardrobe door had a big dent right through the MDF wood panel effect panelling. Well there we are Love's Young Dream - gone wrong. Next tenant in the pipeline a single mum, apparently. Scratch the surface and there's nowt but failure and loneliness but the babies keep coming.