Against all odds, I somehow not only got through it all at work this week, I also got the studio cleared out and scrubbed down and the house clean ahead of Lodgergate(!) Even though it transpired that all the spare pillows are through on my current lodger’s bed, and I am not asking for any of them back, hell no; so I had to scrounge all my pillows instead, and thank god I have thrice the number of spare pillow-cases any human could need (who isn’t running a boarding house).

I suppose, this week, I am technically running a boarding house though! For current lodger flat-out refused to leave at the end of his notice period (a notice period he chose, note, I did not say, You have thirty days to be out on your arse, or be thrown out on it, matey), but mercifully, the new lodgers agreed that they could stay in the studio instead for the first weekend (thank every god). Sadly, I offered that they Not pay for these days (hey, no point storing up grudges for the next three months right off the bat) and since current lodger is outside his lease period, nobody is paying for this weekend. Except, me! Boom boom.

So with everything clean and sparkly, all I have to do is pray that current lodger does not change his mind again about his flakey about there ‘being too many people in the flat already’ – which he then changed his mind about and decided the problem Actually is, I’m a right cow – and have another flakey… at my new lodgers.  So there was much praying all week, and more of it on Friday.

And was the Bossman a hero, for he came over and drove through the torrential rain to the airport to pick them up? Yes he was, and after a root canal and everything! I feared mightily he would be in great tooth-hole-related pain, but for some reason he got away with it scott free, hurrah! – possibly because it is my turn again for that nonsense. (This extraction, it really was the worst possible idea, despite what my lovely dentist says. The other wisdom tooth had given me mighty gip for years, it is true, but this one had not, and now it is having Revenge From Beyond The Grave. Boo.)

So naturally, the first thing that happened was he showed up and started criticising my ability to make roast tatties and I just fecking erupted at him.

…well, for me. It was probably more like a snit in a teacup from anyone else. But, seriously, I have been taking crap from everyone, all week. So of course, the person who didn’t give me anywhere near the amount of crap anyone else did, but happened in on the tail end of it, got the end of the fuse.

(Ha, and despite all my efforts earlier in the week to hide all the potential weapons from myself, I was holding a very sharp knife at the time, too).

(And double-ha, cos my current lodger was right across the hall, probably sniggering his damn head off that I had finally lost my rag).

Anyway, after an evening of running round like a headless chicken (and then blowing my pay-cheque on charity donations, because everyone I know is needing sponsored for something right now) I printed off a big sign and we went to meet some strangers at the airport. And lo, everyone looked at us funny (although that could be because we passed the time by having a scuffle, and we are a bit old for that shit, it’s true). And many people tried to play chicken at me with trolleys, despite my being stood really obviously with twelve feet clearance to each side, and a guy sidled up and asked me what the police presence was all about. Oh feck, do we look like plainclothes? I have Ravie font on this sign, for godsake!

And I have no earthly clue what to do if we don’t actually get this guy, which I made the mistake of saying out loud, which probably didn’t help with our general image problem.

But then some people actually came out and did not scowl at us, and it was they, and we drove them back and everything was good and they seem very nice (and I said that about everyone else who rented the spare room at first, too). And we got them home and my current lodger disappeared and did not come out and have a screeching fit, so that was good. So far.

And – they had brought a gift of Latvian booze and chocolates! A gift! Nobody’s ever brought a Gift! So we had a shot of this stuff with them and it was 45 percent and tasted like cocoa steeped in brandy steeped in… cocoa-flavoured brandy? and I coughed all over the place and everyone fell about, so I guess that’s them settled in then.

I felt bad I had not got them a gift, but hey, a bottle of whisky for the flight back is okay, right? Besides, I felt much better about having worked so hard on the studio for them.

And there were still no explosions on Saturday either! But there was so much more to do – unaccountably, I am short a set of keys again, so there was that and the lease and the deposit and the exchanging of details of next of kin (the second worst thing after getting in from a hard day’s work to find someone dead on your kitchen floor would be explaining to the police that you have no real idea where they came from originally).

I was wiped out by this point, having done the mental equivalent of holding my breath for a week, so I had a nice quiet day of harvesting rhubarb and me first corgies from the Allittlement, and then doing a whole pile of cooking. And all the current lodger’s dishes, for there are five of us here now and the kitchen is not infinite and I am desperately hoping tempers do not Fray.

But hey, by nearly bedtime, when I was winding down with some strange and bovril-flavoured beers* and wondering whether current lodger would actually skedaddle by mid-day tomorrow or what… he came out to say, I Am Really Sorry, Can I Go Monday Instead? Will It Cause Trouble?

*(Due to my fear that I am about to crack up in a frenzy of either homicidal or suicidal fury, I figured laying off the wine at this point would be a rather smart plan.)

Dammit, I have been looking forward to the moment he sodded off so very, very much and it was nearly here!

But I’m a sucker for someone who looked so woebegone (though truly it was only afterwards that it occurred to me he might look like that because he had to eat humble pie to someone he considers to be an Evil Lying Cow, i.e. moi) and asked the new lodgers if they’re cool – which they are, so thank god, and also, that’s another night’s rent lying fallow in the mud – and I have to take Monday morning off work because like hell he’s leaving unattended. Groan. My Colleague of Cakes will flake, for my Colleague of Skull Scarves is on her holibobs. And I will spend the week making up the time. And I was rather looking forward to not living with all my stuff on top of me, but ho hum. 

And after all my looking forward to Jester versus Mikey Whiplash tonight? We are not sodding going because we’re too knackered. The Bossman suggested it, and when my heart leapt at the thought of an evening in rather than falling into my boots, I knew it was a Sign.

Besides, I just blew all my disposable for the week on fecking slug pellets, and now the boiler’s packing it in.

So after all that, Lodgergate was a non-event. SO FAR! But never say die, eh!


About beshemoth

Mainly making art, making wine, writing and gardening. Having a life only as the above allows.
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