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The exchange below is based on bits of conversations with my new PA, it is, I feel, the very spirit of Independent Living. Or not.

Before you say anything, I don't actually call them PA. Nor have i chucked metal objects at them. Yet.

PA: Where's your metal cutlery holding thingy?

Me: Aw, my mum coerced me into buying it on our start-of-term ikea trip. I never liked it, I could have bought swedish meatballs for that money.

PA: That doesn't explain why yesterday it was draining your forks and today it's gone.

Me: Listen, PA, I'll be straight with you: I've hidden it.

PA: Hidden it?

Me: Yeah, it's out of my reach on the sink like that, out of my reach to grab knives for impromtue late night cheese eating anyway. If I hide it y'all can't put stuff in it.

PA: You could have just told me to dry the cutlery and put it in the cuboard.

Me: Yeeeeah but then I'd have to tell all three of you, and I can't be arsed. Yeah, you are tea-cooking PA, monday-sunday, and darn good you are too, but what with the cheese eating n'all, morning PAs wash up too.

[Pause for breath]

Me: I'd rather remove all possibility of you using cutlery thingy than say, on an off day, be tempted to throw a fork at you for using it by accident because it was still on the draining board. It was starting to truly annoy me. More than Sarah Beeney, and I hate Sarah Beeney.

PA: Who?

Me: Propety show presenter, wonky tits, in my opinion.

PA: I don't have a TV in this country, your TV licence is stupid [PA is American]

Me: Not as stupid as having your news reports written by Disney...

(carries on until roughly 7pm)