Monday
You get a good view from up here. As the favourite, I’m always placed at the front of the group. Greetings from Washington gets very jealous sometimes. He doesn’t get used very often, but then he does have Accountants Anonymous to talk to, who is similarly shunned. I suppose you can’t help making friends with those in similar stations to you. I can hear them though sometimes, muttering behind my back. But what can you expect from such petty porcelain? I can’t help that I’m World’s Best Dad, can I? The fact that the child in question is still in nappies and so is unlikely to have formed such an opinion of his own accord is neither here nor there. I remain World’s Best Dad regardless.
As it is the beginning of the week we were woken early for the first coffee of the morning. He had a double shot of espresso. Clearly junior did not sleep well again. The young are so loud, one really wonders what the point of such creatures is. But, I suppose now that I think about it, if Junior were not here then I wouldn’t be either. You can’t be a Dad without one, so I certainly couldn’t be the World’s Best, could I?
Anyway, I digress. I spent the rest of the morning in the dishwasher. I do so loathe the dishwasher. It gets rather too hot for my liking and the water jets are much too forceful. I’m not entirely sure that I am meant to be cleaned in such a contraption, but as neither he nor she has ever bothered to tip me up and read my label, we are all still in the dark about such matters.
It has been a quiet day on the whole. I was put back on the shelf when she came back home in the afternoon and I had a pleasant on and off conversation with Blue and White stripes. I was also able to observe the cat while he was engaged in some manner of stand off with one of the local pigeons on the neighbour’s shed roof. As I said, you do get a good view from up here. Really, the cat had no chance, but he seems to like to have a go anyway. The fact that the local pigeons are built like feathery cannon balls and have a personality to match, doesn’t ever seem to deter him. A sharp peck aimed at the eyes usually does though.
The first drink of the evening was tea, followed by coffee after dinner which, judging by the smell on him, was some manner of fish and potatoes.
Tuesday
The cat was at the pigeons again this morning, but this time there were two pigeons and the cat was seen off rather sharpish. In fact the cat flap banged so hard as he ran back into the house that I swear he nearly had it off its hinges. I really don’t know why he keeps trying. They can’t be very smart. My money is on the pigeons every time, if I had money, which I don’t, but my point still stands.
The atmosphere was somewhat tense this morning and she shouted at him at one point. She hasn’t done that for a while. If I had to guess, I think it had something to do with Junior. But, as their language is so primitive it’s hard to tell. He had another double espresso, so I’m guessing that it was another bad night. That can’t have helped. Come to think of it, it has been a double espresso as standard for a while now. It used to be tea, but clearly that’s no longer strong enough.
Then it was back into the dishwasher, which wasn’t unloaded until tea time. That’s a long time to spend in the company of the glasses who, let’s be honest, haven’t much of a personality. The plates are more engaging, but they’re stacked in the shelf below, so it’s hard to carry on a civilized conversation. The milk jug tried to speak to me on the subject of milk residue at one point but I pretended to be asleep. He tries his best I know, but he is rather dull.
Something unusual happened tonight. I was finally retrieved from the dishwasher and immediately filled with coffee, despite the fact that I know there were others available on the shelf. I told you that I was his favourite. However, he then added a tot of whisky before taking me through to the living room and resting me on the arm of the sofa. I don’t remember that happening before. Not that I am complaining, I actually found it most pleasant. Not that it did that much for me you understand. Crockery sadly does not get any effects from alcohol, but the aroma is delightful.
He sat sipping me while they both watched something on the TV and I could see Junior bouncing away in some sort of large chair-like mechanism. I have no idea what they were watching, but it seemed to involve little people running back and forth on a green carpet with occasional bursts of noise that were hard to interpret.
Wednesday
I was left on the side next to the sink all night. Can you believe that? I mean, I know I don’t like the dishwasher but I like being dirty even less. One can feel the crust of old coffee hardening. At this rate I will start to stain, and there’s nothing less attractive than coffee stains. Those who are stained always go right to the back of the shelf, only brought out on those rare occasions when either enough people have come round that you run out of other, more presentable options; or, God forbid, they need you for some other purpose like holding screws or pencils. Have you any idea how much pencils scratch up your porcelain? Such an indignity.
At least he was not happy to find me left on the side this morning, and my pride was somewhat restored when he hand-washed me. I bet all the others were green with envy at that. Hard to tell of course with Happy St Patrick’s Day!” who’s already green. A hand-wash is a rarity, and so much nicer than the dishwasher. There really is nothing comparable to being gently cleaned by a soft sponge in water that doesn’t feel like it is literally trying to burn the dirt off you.
I was immediately dried and filled with coffee. This however did not seem to cheer him up as much as usual. She didn’t seem happy either, but at least there was no shouting. I do hate it when they shout.
I was even washed again and put straight back on the shelf after breakfast. Two hand-washes in one day! I couldn’t believe it. Blue and White Stripes gave me the side eye for the rest of the afternoon, much to the chagrin of I heart New York, who has always had the hots for her.
I was not required after dinner. I think they went out, so there’s no shame in that. I went to sleep watching three pigeons having some sort of disagreement with a squirrel over the peanut feeder the neighbour hangs out in his garden at the edge of the shed roof. Really, you would think they could all develop some sort of system to share. It’s not as if there is a shortage of peanuts, but they will insist that they each want all of them and thus argument ensues. The cat was chattering away from the windowsill, avidly watching all of this, but clearly not having the guts to actually go and do anything about it. He is, as I believe the saying goes, ‘All mouth and no trousers’. Though I’m not sure what the feline equivalent would be.
Thursday
She selected I heart New York for her coffee this morning and I heard no end of it when we were both in the dishwasher later. He has no idea how to take such an honour gracefully. It is not something to boast about. Some individuals have no class. He did let it slip though that she had had a double espresso shot this morning, like he did. Clearly neither of them are sleeping.
They seemed in good spirits this evening. There was something on the TV but I wasn’t paying attention. He had added whisky to his evening coffee again, more than before too. It was all so peaceful until there was a screech from junior somewhere above and he promptly downed the rest of his drink in one go before plonking me unceremoniously on the coffee table. I’ve not been treated like that before, but these are trying circumstances and one must try and be understanding.
It was some time before he came downstairs again. At one point she picked me up and sniffed my insides. She clearly didn’t like what she smelled; the whisky, I’m going to presume, because she then plonked me back down on the coffee table as well. I decided to rise above it and said nothing of this event when chatting to Blue and White Stripes in the dishwasher that night.
Friday
It was all go today. In the evening several more people came round and so many of us were called into service that we very nearly ran out of troops. As ever though, Poo emoji was left to himself in the corner of the shelf, but really there are almost no occasions when he is ever appropriate. If I were a fortune teller I would sense that a trip to the local charity shop is in his future. But, judging by the way that this family holds onto things, that may be excessive optimism on my part.
It all got a little noisy. There was a lot of tea and coffee going round, and I could tell that a cake was involved somewhere, chocolate I think. Then, as the evening wore on, some of the glasses came out and so did the alcohol. He kept hold of me though and I was filled with not only whisky, but vodka and also gin at one point.
It took an age for everyone to quieten down, and while she was putting us all in the dishwasher, I felt something dripping on me and it took me a while to work out that it was coming from her. She was crying. That doesn’t bode well, does it?
Saturday
Today, well, what can I tell you about today? If I were a less composed piece of crockery, like the wine glasses, I would probably be screaming to myself in the corner. However, as I still have some dignity left I will simply say that it has been a somewhat trying day.
It all kicked off this morning, early, as mornings always seem to be these days. No one seems to get much sleep any more. He was unloading the dishwasher and was placing us all on the side before returning us to our various shelves and cupboards. So far, so normal. But then she came in and I could feel the temperature in the room literally drop. I know that’s a thing people just say sometimes, but I swear that it was true.
Anyway, there she was, and she started talking, and then he started shouting, and before you knew it they were both shouting at each other. This went on for some time, just endless noise, until there was another noise from above. Clearly Junior was feeling left out.
I was sat on the side, bearing up under the auditory onslaught when she grabbed me suddenly and hurled me violently through the air. Well, I have had dreams of flying before, but I can tell you that the reality of flight does not marry up to expectations. The actual time in the air was a novel, and honestly a not entirely unpleasant feeling. It is strange to be so suddenly free of the constraints of gravity. The problem though is that of course gravity is a needy soul and does not take desertion lightly. You always give in to her in the end, even if you don’t want to. So, of course, I inevitably found myself starting to drift in a downwards direction. Bless him he did try to catch me, however, there is a reason that I am called World’s Best Dad and not World’s Best Cricketer. He is a clumsy soul and predictably fumbled the catch. So, there I was, tumbling through the air, being knocked this way and that by his painfully inept efforts, before meeting the floor with far too much force and feeling myself broken into at least four pieces. I could see my handle over by the washing machine, while a large chunk of my bottom ended up in the cat’s water bowl. It is a strange and discombobulating feeling to see something that was previously attached to you now some three feet away. At least we feel no pain. There have to be some perks to being made of porcelain.
Well, now what to do, what to do? Not that there really was much I could do. However, I could decide how to react, and I decided not to go to pieces. Ha! I even managed a pun. Though of course, I could tell that my days of holding coffee were at an end.
I was wondering how quickly I would be gathered up and put in the bin. However, quite to my surprise, he gently scooped me up and placed my pieces next to each other on the counter top. She must have felt that she had made her point because she stormed out of the room, presumably to attend to Junior. He stood over me for a while before he also left the kitchen, turning the light out on his way. I heard the front door slam and then it was all eerily quiet.
Sunday
I had some time last night to contemplate life, and my life in particular. In the end I came to the conclusion that really I had nothing to complain about. I had, after all, been the favourite since I arrived. How many of us can say that? Not many I assure you.
So there I was, musing about life, death, and the looming spectre of the bin, which I had no doubt was my next destination, when she came into the kitchen and turned the light on. I, and my various pieces, were just thinking how rude it was to interrupt such important philosophising about one’s mortality, when she started picking up each of my pieces and examining them, a very strange sensation that I couldn’t really describe if I tried. She then put all of me down and scrabbled in the odds and sods drawer, eventually pulling out a tube of superglue.
You may be thinking that I should have been delighted, but let me disabuse you of that notion. I was not delighted. The problem, as anyone who has attempted such a fix before will tell you, is that one cannot really be used to reliably hold liquids again. Maybe if just your handle came off that would be fixable, but I was in rather more pieces than that. Therefore people put such reassembled individuals to other purposes, as I previously explained, usually to hold pencils, pens, keys etc. This is an indignity I wasn’t sure that I could bear.
You may not understand such things, not being a piece of crockery, but let me tell you that there is no higher privilege than being put to service day after day providing someone’s favourite hot drinks and caffeine doses; and there is no lower you can go than to spend the remainder of your days sat on the corner of the kitchen counter while they fill you with things that they think will come in handy one day but in reality should have gone straight in the bin. So you can see why I was not necessarily overjoyed to see her coming at me with a half-used tube of Super-Stick Glue.
I will say however, to her credit, she did a rather good job. Luckily the pieces were large enough that I went back together nicely. From a distance you couldn’t tell I had ever been broken. But I know, and she knows, and he knows.
She placed me down and was just stepping back to admire me, well her handiwork, but let’s not split hairs, when he came in. There was an awful moment when I thought they were going to go at it again, but he saw me and smiled at her. They ran to each other and seemed to be all smiles again, which was all very well for them, but what about me?
There seemed to be some discussion, and I was picked up and placed in a few different places, none of which I liked. It was like being taken around homes by an estate agent, but in this case it was the estate agent who got to decide where you would live.
However, things started to look up when he took me out of the kitchen and into the living room. I was set down on top of the bureau and gently filled with a handful of pens, which is a step up from pencils at any rate. He stood back, appeared satisfied and they both returned to the kitchen from which came the familiar sounds of the kettle boiling and coffee being ground. I felt a pang of loss, but did my best to bear up.
And so, here I sit, atop the bureau in the living room, surveying my new kingdom. I am still processing everything, but I have to say that it’s not quite as bad as I had thought. At least here I get two good views depending on which way I look, either out of the window onto the front garden, or into the living room at the TV. I still can’t say I understand much of the TV, but the moving pictures are sometimes nice to look at. I can see how it could grow on one. I do miss the coffee, and the conversation with Blue and White Stripes, but at least I don’t have to go through the dishwasher again. One should always count one’s blessings.