The Landlady forgives her sluggish lodgers

My two student lodgers are not good at getting up in the morning, so it’s just as well that they generally don’t have to. One of them wanders around at 11am with his shirt off – bring on the freezing temperatures I say – while the other moans and groans if he has to rise before 10.30am and lumbers around the kitchen muttering that anything before 11am should be banned. Meanwhile in a parallel universe, I’ve already served Madame Small Daughter her chosen breakfast, done all my internet banking and emailing, escorted Madame Small Daughter to school, been for a run, been to the gym and caught the end of Homes Under The Hammer. At 11am, I am generally confronted on a daily basis in the kitchen by my lingering lodgers, often peppered with a sprinkling of The Big Son, who works nights and therefore keeps very strange hours indeed.

“I think my lodgers should revel in the freedom currently at their avail”

It would be very easy to complain that my lodgers ‘don’t know they’re born’ and even to wait gleefully for the day when they have to earn their own living, which would potentially involve rising a good deal earlier than 11am, but then I think back to what a total slug I was at the age of 20, when 11am would have been the absolute Crack of Dawn.

Indeed, I was famous for never rising much before 2pm and even then not achieving a great deal during daylight hours. Of course, these situations never last – look at me now – and I think my lodgers should absolutely revel in the freedom currently at their avail, as this is a rug that is ripped out from beneath one’s feet all too soon in life.

In between dodging somnambulant lodgers, I’ve been a little busier than usual as I’ve been trying to arrange the finance with which to buy a house in Spain. I have approached this endeavour in a very sloth-like manner indeed and have not even put an offer in on the property yet. I have, however, contacted the vendor and asked if I can go and see the house sometime soon. I already had a quick look – unbeknown to the vendor – back in the summer, but want to go around it with a fine toothcomb before I part with any money. I am also going to arrange to look at other properties so that I can pitch my offer correctly. This, I have to say, is a far more careful approach than the slapdash technique I employed when I bought property in the ’90s.

During those heady days, my friend Katy and I hared around at breakneck speed with stinking hangovers, buying property willy nilly all over the South Coast. Furthermore, rather than having difficulty arranging the finance, lenders seemed to catapult sack-loads of cash at you without as much as checking your surname. Oh how times have changed…