Getting in a lather over  those darn ‘pan-soakers’ | BBC Radio Solent's Alun Newman

At this stage, we’re in a holding pattern of taking one day at a time and believing that things will get back to normal.

Granted we didn't have a lot of choice in the matter but there must be some good in all of this chaos?

We’ve had to live largely under each other’s feet.

For those people living in small flats with families, I can’t imagine how tough it’s been.

My sister called me and said, through rather gritted teeth, that she would never look back at this time and say she hasn’t spent enough time with her children (or husband).

Their entire family is working and schooling from home every day. It sounds like hell, particularly with a collection of young children.

The issue coming under scrutiny this week is washing-up.

I would like to put forward the theory that there are generally two sorts of people in life.

They can easily be divided into two groups (but there are rare exceptions) – there are the pan-soakers and the pan-cleaners.

The pan soakers invariably get to the end of the washing-up then they’ll see the grubby roasting tin/Yorkshire pudding tray/casserole dish and will openly state: ‘I’ll leave that to soak’.

I believe that these people have no intention of coming back to the pan, they’re ducking out.

They’ve tired of the duty, they can no longer be bothered. The call of the sofa and the TV or smartphone is too much – they’re done.

And so the pan is left in the sink with a white foam crown or, in a worst-case scenario, on the cooker hob, then they simply walk away with the promise of return.

How does this habit start?

The gateway drug to this activity is ‘bin balancing’. This is when people can see the bin is full but go for ‘compress and balance’ rather than good old-fashioned responsibility and empty it.

As I’m sure you can imagine from this, I do not leave items to soak.

I have also emptied the bin more times than anyone else currently alive in my neighbourhood.

However, I live with compulsive pan-soakers – all of them have this crippling condition.

I failed in my duty as a parent and didn’t nip the ‘bin balancing’ in the bud so I only have myself to blame.

I have no idea what happens in the long-run to these people.

I assume that they must search out a suitable partner who can cope with their ability to leave a job half done.

I haven’t checked but perhaps there’s an additional setting on the dating app, Tinder, which allows someone looking for love to declare up front: ‘I may be gorgeous, funny and talented but it’s important to let you know from the very start, I’m a pan-soaker.

‘I walk away when washing up gets tough.

‘I do notice when it finally gets cleared but I pretend I don't. I say nothing. It’s not my fault. Blame my parents.’

I have learned many things during lockdown but I have also seen many of my failings.

I have tried to re-educate and instil a sense of deep washing-up responsibility.

However, it is always the same: they’ll do it later.

Later never comes. When they return, as if by magic, the washing-up fairy has always been.

He’s a nice guy, whoever he is...

When I used to work on a different shift, I would walk to the railway station at the same time every day.

Cutting through my housing estate and into town, there’s only really one route to choose from.

I would pass another worker making his way to the industrial estate in the opposite direction. Strangely, we would meet again on our way home – our random lives were in-sync.

We started simply nodding at each other every morning or possibly an eyebrow raise. As the months went on, it developed into a ‘good morning’ or a ‘lovely weather’.

It held at around this point for months on end and then we pushed the envelope to accuse each other of ‘cheating’ if we had a ‘bicycle’ or we would include the occasional man-wave – a raised hand with a pinched smile.

It has to be one of the great British traditions – to become acquainted with someone without having a clue who they actually are.

Even though I’m now working different hours, we’ve walked past each other so much, that we can now stop and say ‘hello’ at any random meeting.

On a recent socially-distanced walk, I met the fella and his wife! We stopped and chatted. We remarked on the burst of lovely sunshine, lamented the current pandemic and wished each other farewell until the next time.

This must have been going on now for at least two years. In a testament to the power of ‘bloke chat’ I have absolutely no idea what his name is.

Nice guy though.