Let’s do this together

Saturday mornings are always a battleground in our house because it’s chores day.

Or as The Dark Lord calls it: sleep-till-noon-anddon’t-lift-a-blinking-finger day.

It’s hard enough trying to get her to tidy her room, but at the weekend her spotty friends come round and sit there, playing guitars, listening to anguished indie music and generally being miserable (which makes them happy).

I’ve given up asking The Dark Lord to make her bed, so it always looks like a giant gerbil has made its nest in the rolled-up duvet, with bits of clothing, loo rolls, crisp packets and the missing tops to all her drinks bottles sticking out of it.

Anyway, on Saturdays I try to wield the vacuum cleaner around the house, but for the past three weeks I’ve not been able to get in The Dark Lord’s bedroom to do her mucky carpet.

“Leave it, Mum,” she yells at me from inside her monster’s grotto. And then promises: “I’ll do it myself later.”

Which never, ever happens. So I’ve just had to let it go and hope we don’t have an outbreak of cholera in the house.

Anyway, I know parents just have to shut teenagers’ doors and let them wallow in their own mess, but the dog is desperate to get in there because it’s a great snack bar.

Trouble is, our pug Boris can get himself in there, but he can’t get out on his own and he’s too much of an idiot to bark, so he goes missing for most of the day. This week he found his way in for hours – I only noticed because my feet were chilly under my desk.

I stuck my head round TDL’s bedroom door, and somehow the dog had managed to find a half-eaten steak bake that she’d rolled on in bed, and he was desperately trying to reach it, but his little legs were too short.

The Dark Lord came back that afternoon after school and I told her about Bozza’s archaeological find – the ancient steak bake. She just shrugged and said: “Oh I wondered where that had gone. I’m starving. Did you keep it?”

Saying that, it’s probably not as bad as her legendarily filthy cousin Leo, who was in another league. The family still talk in hushed tones about the time her mum found a desiccated frog under her bed. It was the frog I felt sorry for.

■ Email me at siobhan.mcnally@mirror.co.uk or write to Community Corner, PO Box 791, Winchester SO23 3RP.

Please note, if you send us photos of your grandchildren, we’ll also need permission of one of their parents to print them... Thanks!