I usually have a lot of stories flitting about my head at any one time. Most are extremely ephemeral but some I continue to mull over for ages. This is the beginning of one; I want to start the beginning of another shortly. I am the master of beginnings but never seem to have the time to take them any further! Incidentally this is my second attempt to start this work – or is it the third! Anyway I have already posted at least one earlier attempt.
I need lodgers – for future reference this statement should be filed with “I need food, water or oxygen”.
I am living in a large, if run down, house – actually you could replace run down with run over as this more correctly represents the state of it; I am seriously in arrears with the mortgage and I have just lost my job – mislaid to be honest as I hated it so much I finally never turned up! Sadly this is my approach to everything in life.
I haven’t got a partner, for reasons I probably wont go into just now although the paragraph immediately preceding this one offers a clue.
I chose this house as I liked the garden – singular lack of logic I know. I also wanted room for a studio. I am close to being a professional artist, read as in touching distance – an image springs to mind of God with outstretched arm touching the finger tips of his other hand as he couldn’t be bothered to reach over to Adam! (I’m not sure if I like that image although it sounds pretty familiar).
The house has three bedrooms, two easily large enough for double beds (in fact one could fit two; quite a selling point for people with a penchant for orgies – I haven’t I hasten to add!) and one much smaller – although typically this room has the best view. Downstairs the kitchen and dining room are crudely combined like a Doctor Moreau animal but there is a comparatively large living room. For some ill thought out reason I am actually using this room for my studio; I work huddled over my easel in one corner and the rest of the room is vacant – it is so large the whole of Stagecoach could have been filmed in it, including the chase scene – and yes I am glad they never shot the horses!
At the moment I sleep on an old mattress in my studio, partly because I can’t be bothered to go upstairs at night and partly because it is the only room I can afford to heat (the bathroom and toilet are downstairs – great now, possibly not later!). Both bedrooms do actually have double beds in them although one is really just a sofa bed and there is currently only one wardrobe – and that is minus its door as I painted on it, didn’t like the painting and had to hurriedly take it off (if you have an idea, you have to follow it even if you fall over the edge of a cliff in the process!).
Why don’t I bring the sofa bed downstairs? Have you tried carrying one on your own – apart from that I like the mattress – ditto the dog. I don’t think I have mentioned the dog. He is a black, brown and off white mongrel which I pretend is ninety percent Manchester Terrier and ten percent Jack Russell (I don’t know how the Jack Russell reached either) which I named Alexander The Great: he is called Alexander (or Alex) quite a lot – Great less frequently (although secretly I know he is).
Plan A is to convert the small bedroom into a bathroom, fit some kind of kitchen in a corner of the largest bedroom and rent out the entire floor – there isn’t a plan B (even though I haven’t got enough money to undertake plan A). Plan C was, in desperation, to put a notice asking for lodgers in the local shop window and see what happens. This story is about what happened. It is nothing like I expected, imagined, dreamt, might happen as the human brain is not able to conceive of anything this far out or other worldly strange – not even an artist with a reenactment of Stagecoach taking place in his living room!