Red wine, pale student carpet

 

It’s 2 o’clock in the morning and I find myself aimlessly wandering around my 2 metre long and 2 metre wide bedroom. I’ve cleaned the dust off a lamp and I’ve read all of the books on my shelf. These books are in no way related to my course but, they’re interesting. Which is more than I can say for the drivel on my reading list.

I’m pyjama’d up, about to give in and go to bed when the worst happens. I must have tripped over thin air in a last attempt of excitement and rebellion against bedtime which causes the only bottle of red wine that I’ve ever owned to fall to the floor from the smallest table in the world and obliterate into a million pieces, throwing it’s dark venom all over my overly priced, rented carpet.

Panic sets in. ‘MY DEPOSIT!’ Is my first thought and Google is my next. I smash the words ‘how to get red wine out of a pale carpet’ into the search box and wait impatiently as I see the stained circle darkening. Whilst my internet has the speed of an over fed slug I bound for help. ‘Jon! Jon! Quick something really bad has happened!’ I hammer on my flatmates door and he comes out sleepy eyed and in his dressing gown. ‘I might have accidentally spilt a whole bottle of red wine on my carpet, please help me!’ Jon seems to be more womanly minded and stays calm, twirls backwards into his dark cave of a bedroom and returns with vanish and a damp cloth. I on the other hand am armed with surf and vinegar.

I’m thrown into a state of hysteria, giggling and yet almost in tears as I drown the carpet in vinegar and then coat it in a sheet of surf. This is what Google suggested and this, this is what I am trusting. Jon’s voice seems to have acquired a higher pitch as he stares at me whilst I stamp on the surf hoping it will help soak up the damage. ‘Is it working?!’ I yell. I get the hoover and suck up the powder which is now a dark shade of purple… This does not look good. The hoover is now clogged and now I not only have a giant stain on my carpet, I have surf all over my room and the entire place smells like alcoholic soapy vinegar.

I scrub with soapy water in hope that cleanlisness will resume and the previously grim patterned carpet will be saved from the giant stain invading its fabric. The night is long. I send Jon to bed after I feel we have done all that we can do to recover the carpet. I toss and turn in my sleep, wishing for a miracle. Not a miracle from God but, a miracle from Vanish, Surf and maybe even Johnsons.

It’s morning. I spring from my bed. There’s a stain. But the stain is no longer red wine, the stain is now from the brown vinegar I used in a state of mindless panic.