I got into my car this morning to take Dexter to Breakfast Club and as we sat down he turned to me and said, “Cor Mum, it smells like my brother’s farts in here.”

 

Which was nice.

 

But he had a point.  He did smell a bit rank.  Suffice to say, cleaning the car isn’t at the top of my priorities right now.

 

“We’ll have a good clean out of the car at the weekend OK?” I told Dexter.

 

He didn’t look impressed.  Fast forward ten hours and on our way home from work and school we stopped off at Tescos.  I really am living the dream.  As I put the shopping in the boot of the car, the rank smell from the morning was even stronger.  Now, the boot of my car is always full of crap.  There are several coats, shoes, coat hangers, bags galore, leftover clothes from a boot fair, oh, and a packet of Chocolate Eclairs (yum.)

 

Hang on … what’s this?

 

IT’S A BLOODY ROTTEN PUMPKIN!

 

Yup.  Earth Mother I am not.  I’d actually bought the pumpkin for Halloween … THREE WEEKS AGO!

 

Kinda forgot to carve out the damn thing but it’s the thought that counts right?

 

So there I was, knackered, cold, tired, scooping out a stinky mess of slushy, mouldy pumpkin from the boot of my car.

 

And then it started to rain.  Course it did.  My friend Laura was bloody right.  She said I wouldn’t do it.  Hate it when she’s right.

 

I’ll definitely carve a pumpkin next year though.  Almost definitely.  Probably.

 

Maybe.

 

 

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