Home alone Hannah learns about life without parents (From Gazette & Herald)

Home alone Hannah learns about life without parents

HANNAH GIBBONS and her sisters, Emily and Steph, were left home alone this week. How did they cope? Or should I say did they cope.

THE house is rattling to the tune of three lonely young ladies this week.

"It's business girls, we'll hate it," said the parents looking very doleful indeed, as they prepared to embark on their trip to Hong Kong.

"It's OK, we understand. Know how hot is it going to be exactly?"

"Well 30 degrees, but..."

"And just how many days of the seven will you be working?"

"Three, very, very long ones, but..."

"And what kind of hotel will you be in? What's that? A very swanky one - with chocolates on the pillow and free slippers? Is that right?!"

Good gracious - the audacity of the woman! And waving us off for school the morning of her departure with a little tear in the eye. Beggar's belief.

Yet, just in case this show of emotion was genuine, we saved the cheering and celebration for when we were round the corner.

The gravity of the situation hadn't really hit us until we arrived home and found handy little post-it notes covering every wall.

"This is the light switch!" "Don't forget to lock up!" "Feed the fish!" Oh how we laughed! We'll be fine, we'll be great! And we were.

For the first couple of days life was pretty fantastic. Our most pressing concern was trying to get a balanced diet ("We had Chinese last night, would Indian be OK tonight or should we try a different continent?").

Finally, we ventured into the kitchen to prepare the complex culinary delight of frozen pizza - no point in using anymore plates than absolutely necessary (and so far the total stands at an impressive two), and cooked pizzas just get a bit messy.

Communication was limited, not least because I received a text - "Just ate George". "Who's George?" I wondered. "The fish" it seems.

Apparently you get acquainted with your dinner before you eat it in Hong Kong. How civilised.

In revenge, I sent the feared, "Good party here, whoops got to go... car on move" text, with little regard to the seven hour time difference.

But after the honeymoon period, things started, as they generally do, to slide downhill.

"Why aren't there any clean glasses?" and "I've run out of underwear!" Exclamations of horror echoed through the house. "Someone has stolen our knickers and our crockery!" I deduced. "Quick, check the doors are locked, Steph."

The awful truth dawned soon enough and after an extensive house meeting, a plan was drawn together.

First we must tackle the washing machine... good Lord, could they make these things any trickier? I gave it my best shot, but really, I'm far too creative to follow instructions.

I simply do not understand the difference between those dishwasher tablets and the washing powder - they do the same job in the end don't they?

As a result of this little misunderstanding, I've been put onto curtain drawing, bath water letting out and TV remote control finding duties. All the essential tasks, you see.

But credit to them, my sisters seem to have got their act together - as I write, Emily is whispering sweet nothings to the dishwasher in the hope that our cup shortage will soon be lessened.

Steph's running a bath and can be rest assured of an un-mouldy towel after having earlier wafted a few outside for a breath of fresh air.

There is household harmony, the likes of which has been unseen since 'The Waltons'.

I'm almost looking forward to my parents' return home - a spotless house awaits them, at least to the untrained eye, with clean and perfumed young ladies.

And there's certainly been no fish cruelty in this house - Fluffy died of natural causes, honestly.

Updated: 16:34 Thursday, October 27, 2005