Who put the arse in arsonist?

THE young wan that’s who.

We had such a wonderful week last week, when the young wan bent over backwards to be good and it showed. She tried so hard and all her efforts were deeply appreciated and rewarded.

The atmosphere at home was amazing, the craic was ninety and all was well with the world. Until Sunday that is.

That’s when Tetra called by and stayed for dinner and I asked the young wan to tidy up that dirty, filthy black hole we call her bedroom.

She has the most amazing capacity to stand doing nothing, absolutely nothing for hours, instead of tidying up.

It is amazing the effort that goes into not doing what you are told, huge effort, I wish those energies were redirected elsewhere but how and ever, as they say.

She will coo over stuff she hasn’t seen in a while cos of the mess, she will peruse pictures she forgot she had and she will start to read books or magazines that have been uncovered by the slight effort made into tidying.

Sunday was no different, apparently.

So, bank holiday Monday arrives and I get up, delighted to be off, delighted that the house is mostly looking good and I call up the young wan to take out the doggie.

And holy be to the saints, preserve protect and calm us down, her room was worse than it was the night before.

She had obviously gone on a trying on clothes spree and stuff was stuffed everywhere. She has the most amazing knack at badly hiding stuff she doesn’t want to put away.

Now when I say badly hidden, I mean REALLY badly hidden. It all practically waves at you shouting ‘HOWRYA’ when you walk in the door.

And that’s what happened on Bank Holiday Monday morning. I went ballistic and got her up.

I pulled all the clothes from the hidden corners where they were shoved. I actually find this deeply upsetting and hurtful. She knows we are not made of money yet she treats the beautiful clothes she is bought with such disrespect.

I am not expecting miracles, but really the disregard made to the expensive items is very hurtful to me.

So she was left with a pile… A large pile, BUT it could have been so much larger, let me tell you, it certainly could.
After a few hours dithering and folding slowly, the room starts to show itself underneath the filth.

I decide that I will run into town and grab some groceries from one of the cheap supermarkets.

I told her I would be no longer than an hour and off I went, catching a bus immediately.

As we drove down our road, I noticed a gang (well three of them) of her pal around the corner from our house, so feeling guilty that she was inside, I phoned her and told her she could go to meet the kids, if she took the dog and stayed in the local part until I got back.

That was at 3.50pm. By 4.45pm, I am coming home and driving past the park in a taxi, laden with bags and no signs of any of the young ‘uns in the park.

I put my key in the door, and can feel my blood boil as judging by the sounds I heard I realise she has the kids in our flat.

I DO NOT allow this at all, particularly when I am not there, no way jose.

In my bloody bedroom, were the two 13-year-old lads looking rather shocked and caught. I just said ‘cheerio’.

The girls were locked in the bathroom, I hammered on the door which was eventually and meekly opened.

I couldn’t even look at the pal and just said ‘time to go’.

Then all hell broke loose.

I ranted and raved. She knew herself what lines she had crossed, how she had betrayed my trust, how she had deliberately broken one of the main cardinal rules in our home and how all her good work last week flew out of the window.

As I was shouting, I noticed a scorched smell and asked who was burning something in my house.

The young wan: No one

Me: I can SMELL it, who was burning things in my bathroom?

The young wan: NO ONE

This went on for too long, why must teenagers in particular continue to lie when the truth is staring you in the face.

Finally she said they were just burning stuff, (yeah, just burning stuff!!!!) and that is when I noticed the bin in the bathroom was actually smouldering largely and about to go on fire.



Did I say hell broke loose earlier, at this point, it came and danced around us in my bedroom.

One hastily spilt pint glass of water and the contents of the sodden bin are placed safely into the big wheelie bin, I am hoping she realised how close she came to burning down the house. The consequences do not bear thinking about, all I can think is, THANK GOD I came home when I did.

This incident brings to mind a number of questions and statements:

Why continue to lie when the truth is waving at your mother behind your head
Why, oh why, light matches, what is that about? Are you 13 or three?
Why make home life horrible by doing things you know are not allowed.
Once again, whats with the fire fascination nonsense? I just cannot fathom what is going on there.
How dare you bring people into my bedroom?
Why would you take the complete piss when you have been grounded and have been allowed to go to the park with your pals?
Oh and who is going to fix the bathroom door handle that you broke?

So the twisted firestarter, arse-nist, that is my daughter is once again in disgrace. I can only hope she realises the full consequences or what could have been consequences of her actions.

The young wan is definitely 13 going on three.