Before Alistair and I toddled off to Cyprus, he asked the ex if she wanted to house-sit. (Oh, yes, regardless of what may or may not have happened, she is still around). She agreed, and said she would mind the kinky B&B too. I usually do this job. It's pretty straight forward... you do everything you would if you were preparing a regular hotel room. Make it clean and beautiful before the guests arrive, and then in the morning, go deal with the carnage. Although, I have to say the guests are usually very clean, and very tidy.
The ex did not show up to mind the house. In fact, it seems that the only times she was there was to prepare the B&B, and for the dinner party she threw in our absence, (we'll come to this later).
The guests arrived on the Friday evening. Alistair got a call on Saturday afternoon. I am not sure whether it was from the guests, or from the brand new Mistress who has never rented our dungeon-space, but was due to on the Saturday afternoon. In any case, Alistair had misunderstood the amount of time the guests wanted. They wanted the whole weekend. Alistair had only booked them in for Friday night, and the new Mistress had booked a session in with a client on Saturday. Of course, all of this could have been discovered before any real damage was done. Had the ex been there, instead of fucking off to a party, she would have gone down in the morning to discover the guests still there. She could then have offered for them to relax upstairs whilst the new Mistress had her session, and then they could have returned back to a nice, clean, ready to go B&B. (The guests would not have minded this, because they are regulars and friends). Instead, what happened was the Mistress walked in on the guests, and was understandably angry. She cancelled her appointments, and Alistair lost the money from them. The guests did not return for the full weekend, and Alistair lost substantial money there, too.
Still, bless the ex, she can't do much wrong in Alistair's eyes. If only she had received the text message he sent her in time, she could have rushed wastedly back to the house from the party across London. All would have been well.
The ex had also agreed to pick us up from the airport. We were due to land at 2.30am. During the course of our last day in Cyprus, we get a little message informing us that there had been a big party in Brighton, which had gone on for ages, and she might not be in any condition to drive, and due to highness, no sleep had been possible. I knew instantly we were going to be stranded at the airport. It was of no surprise when we then received a message telling us that no one would be coming to fetch us. I blinked in disbelief when Alistair tried to blame the situation on the fact that there was a party in Brighton. Indeed. How dare our mutual friends throw a party, and tempt the ex away from fulfilling her promise of a lift from the airport. Frankly I wouldn't have minded half as much, if it was during the day. We could have caught a train. Instead we had to arrange for an expensive cab.
But, bless her, it's not her fault.
When arrived home, I scanned the kitched. Imagine my delight as I discovered that I would have the privilege of clearing up yet another of her dinner parties. In fact, I do believe that I have cleared up at least the previous five parties she has had, even the ones I did not attend.
And lo, I would get to feel even more special, for what is that brown substance all over the bath? It is professional wax from the professional waxing kit, and it has set, and it may only be removed with solvent. A real treat.
Lucky, lucky me.
And lucky, lucky her. Use Alistair's house to host a party whilst we are away, and not actually bother to give anything back at all. Even if it means stranding us at the airport at 2.30am.
Yesterday, I set about clearing the kitchen. As I looked at the line of bottles by the bin, I saw an empty bottle of Tattinger Champagne. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. I had bought one of those for Alstair on his birthday... we were saving it to drink together. Before I even opened the refrigerator, I already knew it had been drunk. I got a bit shouty.
This is rare for me.
However, rather than see my (I think rather fair) point of view that all this was just a bit too fucking out of order, Alistair thought I was grossly over-reacting, and was only upset because I have a chip on my shoulder about the ex. Hmmmm. Well, he could be right, but let's just re-cap this page of events, just in case. I'll let you all decide for yourselves, shall I?
You get him on a good day, and it has to be very, very, very good, and Alistair will admit that he defends the ex when often he really shouldn't. Mostly, just like now, he smiles a little smile, and says she's been a bit naughty.
He did mention the Champagne to her on the phone, and the state of the kitchen. After the conversation, I asked if she had at least apologised. He said no. This did not seem to bother him. Moreover, she had blamed the birthday Champagne on mutual friends who had raided the fridge. So her guests at her party had drunk my birthday present to Alistair. This seemed to make it a bit more ok for my absolutely bumfuck-crazy beloved. Apparently the ex has said she'll replace it. Watch this space, but please, oh please, don't hold your breaths.