1 post tagged “lodgers”

I'm smoking a roll-up (Drum tobacco in licorice Rizla+ paper) and listening to Benny Goodman's show from November of '37. It's piping through my laptop speakers and likely affecting the dreams of a very stubborn, quite wonderful young thing who refused to go to bed without me. I can't go to bed until pops gets here. So here we coil, one mostly under and one as bright eyed as one can be without having remembered to take his contacts out for three fucking days (side chair). And the cats are fighting in silence. They remind me of shadow puppets when they do that. It looks staged. I wouldn't be surprised if it were. They're just the type.

We have a new lodger to help bridge the money gap until the dust settles. He's a kindly older gent from Melbourne, Australia - a university professor who took early retirement so he could kick around the world and have fun before the MS takes hold and renders him unable to walk under his own steam. He did quite well after a 24 hour flight, a 4 hour meeting with his godson and hoiking his belongings up two flights of stairs and into the flat. "It'll suit me fine!" he beamed, not even puffing much at all. He gave us an extra fifty quid to say thanks for not renting the room to anyone else when he found he'd be a week later than promised. We're just skint enough that I took it without too much protest. He didn't look like a man to be trifled with when he's righting a wrong, on any level. Fucking shit, did we need that money. He'll be a bit of sun around the flat, I can tell. He even spent tonight, his first night back on English soil, in temporary university accomodation. It might have been to sleep off the jet lag in peace. It might have been because of its convenience to his research in the libraries there. It might just have been to give us a chance to ease into his company. It could have easily been all three. He's that kind of fellow, from what I can tell so far.

He stated pretty flatly that we'd get four weeks of money even if he splits early, which is a sign of adulthood as far as I'm concerned. I've had just about enough of my so-called peers 'forgetting' to pay for things or buying cheap to replace quality, because everybody's skint and small and as likely to fuck you over as offer you a cup of your own tea. It's a strange, friendly sort of thievery in which those doing it seem to completely miss the fact that they're being shits and would feel wronged by the accusation of same. Eh, well. Over now.

There was a fire in the front garden of the house next door at about a quarter past four in the morning. "Do you smell something burning?" "Well, I just put out my cigarette..." A few minutes later, the cats were on the window sill, looking sketchy. Their heads were darting around, Brimstone got spooked and ran inside (a shocker that was not - she's skittish) and Treacle was bent around the corner trying to get a gander at something next door. We scolded them inside, and another waft of burning got the boy to look out the opposite window. "Erm. Something's on fire over there, baby." As soon as my eyes focused on the tiny inferno raging in the rubble of the renovation-in-progress, I had the phone in my hand and dialled 999. I was pretty calm considering the fact that the wind was encouraging tiny into middlin', and the fire brigade took - no lie - a minute thirty to get there and another thirty to uncoil the hose and start spraying. No sirens - the streets were clear. They spent about another five minutes taking out the rubble piece by piece and hosing it down, then another minute to hose down the boots of the firemen and they were off again. He got it on video. I can't wait to tell the wife, but it's a very cruel thing to wake up an exhausted career girl to tell her about a fire that's already out.

...which is why I didn't mention that I couldn't feel anything much in my right arm from shoulder to wrist for about 12 hours. It's just about back now. I knew it was temporary, probably some sort of swollen muscle pressing against a nerve. That's what I get for solidifying at this ungodly rate. It's like the Hulk in slo-mo, only slightly less green.