About 5 minutes ago I bought the camera out to the kitchen and mum gave me a panicky, “Don’t put this on the blog!”

Now usually I’d respect this kind of statement but in order to expose the most shameful thing about our house and to hopefully prevent it from happening as often, I’d like to introduce you to our fridge.

I live in what I think is a pretty good house. Being one of the ‘neater’ (most of the time) members of our household I’m generally fairly satisfied with the way things are – when I choose to ignore the numerous bits and pieces of ‘collections’ mum has around the place.

The fridge is a totally different matter. I’ve known Laura to jump infront of friends to ‘not let them look’ only to appologise profusely afterwards. “Just shove it where it fits, if it fits” is said fairly often as well as, “I don’t want to know what’s in there”.

So it’s been bad for a LONG time now since no one has bothered to clean the good old, cold, white thing. I’ve been avoiding it as much as possible. I could just clean it, but I find that there is vast difference between cleaning say, my room and cleaning off food and out of date salad dressings. I do throw the occasional suss looking item out but I do my absolute best to steer clear of getting involved.

I’d rather solve the problem by prevention and throwing things out well before they get really bad than deal with it only when it reaches a certain state.

So I walk out to where Mum and Laura are tackling every item I don’t want to know about. There are three bags of rubbish sitting on the floor. Mum poses for the photo with the packet of out of date, once ham.

Maybe later I’ll go looking for something in there beyond margarine and milk and venture beyond the door.

Whenever I happen to move out – which could be a while. I don’t ever want a fride that remotely resembles what we’ve got.