There’s a thing about cabbage. I love eating it (especially when V does it) but the smell of cooked cabbage, when it’s not yours, seems to pervade every corner of every room in the whole apartment block.

The person whose flat it was had not had cabbage but the smell outside was quite horrible.

And it reminds me of the first place I lived, when I got my first job. I had to move out of my accommodation that I was living in whilst a student and managed to find a room in someone’s house, that I could afford and allowed me to walk to work.

The house was not really a nice house. The guy had bought it as his girlfriend (apparently) had said that she would not marry him if he didn’t have a house. So he bought this house on a very small housing estate which was sandwiched between the truck-making factories that took their name from the town. It was grim.

I suppose it was only a surprise to him that, when she saw the house she told him that she couldn’t marry him whilst he had this house!

Anyway, back to boiled cabbage.

He, effectively living on his own, had developed a method of feeding himself that required the minimum of work but the maximum of taste (well, taste of a sort).

He put in a large pot some mince, some cabbage and some herbs (I think he put herbs in) and then added water. He then boiled this for some time. Then he took from the pot the amount he required to eat that night. The next night he would warm it up again and, again, take what he needed.

But here is where his “trick” came in. When it was getting a bit low (maybe one or two evening meals) he just added some more mince or cabbage (or both). This meant that it went on for weeks. The pot sat, proudly, on the cooker top, retaining its weeks-old concoction.

Once, as he had not arrived home and I was so curious, I lifted the lid to see if the mixture inside was, by now, alive or growing mould or something.

The odour that hit me as I opened the pot nearly made me pass out. It has to have been the most horrendous smell ever. And, once he got home and turned up the heat, the smell crept through the house within a few minutes.

So, whereas I really like eating the stuff, the smell of others boiled cabbage makes me want to retch. Not the best thing whilst viewing the flat.

Anyway, it was quite a nice flat (boiled cabbage apart) but I won’t go for it. I still have the flat on my favourite street or a flat that is further out but is being done-up and will have all new appliances and units in the kitchen and bathroom. I need to go back and see them very soon, else I might lose them. I guess I should make a decision by this weekend but it is hard when, really, in your heart of hearts, this was not what was planned and it is a kind of finality that I would prefer not to have.

Ah well. Onwards and upwards, as they say.