I am back in Edinburgh. Stepping off the train journey from hell and breathing in the familiar aroma of malt and with the crisp freshness of the town I felt like I was home. Piling up my million bags, I waited for a taxi. I eventually got back to my flat and found it in a state.

Since I was gone, a Brazilian had been living in my room but it seems it was his first time away from home and he had no idea about the small improvements to quality of hygiene like bedsheets, vacuum cleaners and opening a window occasionally. Moreover, my best friend in edinburgh had moved out, taking H with him, and had been replaced by an ex work colleague of mine.

The whole place, once attractive for its spacious, light rooms and clean lines and bright lights had become a hovel filled with mouse shit and mould. Every room had stuff in it. Mountains of stuff. The kitchen was unrecognisable, grimy floors, a Himalaya of dishes in various states of life cultivation and smatterings of mouse shit over every surface. The living room was a junk room, everything had been stashed in there. My piano used as a drinks stand with watermarks on the woodwork and scratches on the polish. The sofa, once cleared of debris, was peppered with extra large mouse droppings and the floor covered in grit and crumbs. The bathroom, normally white, was black and pink with mould, with suspicious brown crusts on the loo seat and pubes on every surface. My room. Small and cosy usually and easy to keep clean (you can touch both walls at the same time if you stand in the middle, stank of sweat and old skin. My mattress smelt horrific and had grey patches where my mattress cover had hols in it, the whole thing was covered in pubes and rice (? why?). This boy had been sleepingfor 2 months in my bed without bedcovers and eating there.. Yuk! The carpet was so dirty it looked light grey instead of a deep royal blue.

I've spent the last 3 days cleaning.. I started with my room. I removed the window from the frame and scrubbed that down. I vacuumed once, twice and then a third time in the corners. I vacuumed my mattress, I dusted everything, I polished all the surfaces and cleaned the mirror. I patched up the cover and febreezed the mattress and made my bed properly. I unpacked all my stuff from storage and moved back into my room and then unpacked my luggage.

Next, the kitchen. I unscrewed all the fittings from teh stove and cleaned them all, there was mouse shit even in the holes under the hob fittings and greasy dust in the knobs. Cleaned them all. Scrubbed all the surfaces, cleaned the dishes, dried the dishes, found new cupboards for them. While I was away, the new flatmate had thrown out all my stuff to replace it with his. I was incandescent with rage- he'd thrown out jams I made with my gran which, if they have a little mould on the top, are fine under the mould- it's what it is to be organic, the rest is preserved in the sugar, he'd thrown out the honey my mum's cousin had made from his own apiary, he'd thrown out the kilo of museli I'd prepared before I left and packed in a tin. He'd thrown out my MARMITE (half full), my sushi kit, my spices from cyprus in 'non-british labelled tins therefore suspicious'. ARGHHHHHHHH. I nearly exploded with anger. He'd been there 3 weeks and hadn't managed to clean anything except for a half hearted attempt to clear out the kitchen which basically resulted in throwing out all my stuff.

I tackled the bathroom yesterday. Bleach everywhere, no more shit encrusted toilet, no more black bathroom tiles, no more pube carpets. He then had the cheek to come home and go "Are you using bleach??? It's so bad! I never use bleach, only milton!" WELL THEN FUCKING USE SOME MILTON AND CLEAN THE FLAT A BIT YOU INCONSIDERATE FOOL. Seriously, no cleaning had been done her for months.... time enough for mice to set up camp in one sofa and the toilet area to look like it had had an accident with a shit filled, backfiring spray can. He lives like an animal and he has the cheek to tell me how to clean?!!
The flat is now tidy, clean and smells normal. His room is still a disgrace, twice the size of mine but you still can't see the floor. I work while I'm here too, having a 6 hour shift per day is no excuse for accepting to live in a slum.

It's time like these that I really, really miss S. At least he used to say thank you when I cleaned the flat, which I invariably did more often as my standards are slightly higher than the average bloke's.

I want to move out.. I don't want to be an annoying guy's mum, cleaner and agony aunt.