The Landlady feels alone

Lord only knows what opinion of England my Korean student will be taking back to Korea with her. I am sure it will be bizarre at best and inaccurate at worst. With the exception of two foreign boys who stayed with me five years ago and never left their room, which consequently became a stinking pit, she is definitely the student who has ventured outside her bedroom the very least. In the month that she has been with me, she has, as far as I can ascertain, only seen the inside of her classroom and the inside of her bedroom at Landlady Towers.

There has been no evidence of day trips to London, meals out at local restaurants or even visits to the Pavilion and Devil’s Dyke. Her weekends have been spent squirrelled away in her room, making various mercy dashes to the kitchen where she spends approximately 60 seconds cremating something bland and white, which she then darts back to her room to eat. Although I’ve tried to communicate with her, the only bit of animated conversation came when the internet wasn’t working forfive minutes*.

This behaviour is not unusual. My friend A also has a Korean seemingly hibernating in her spare room. She even discovered a slow-cooker plugged in and slowly incinerating something in his room and promptly banned him from using it. My Korean girl is self-catering too, which means that I don’t have to cook for her. I think she has taken self-catering to a whole new level, as she has brought her own pots, pans and packets of food with her. Maybe she thinks we still have rationing here? It certainly explains why her suitcase weighed approximately three tonnes when she arrived. I should know, I had to carry it up three flights of stairs. She has been so invisible, that when I said to The Big Daughter that the Korean girl was leaving at the weekend, she asked ‘which Korean girl?’

Although the Korean Girl is about to depart, she has left an irremovable reminder of her visit. She has deposited an ominous pan-shaped burn mark on the stairs, which is – I am certain – evidence of a rapidly incinerated pan of super-noodles being carried too hastily upstairs without the use of either caution or oven-gloves. She clearly preferred to burn my carpet and possibly her fingers rather than risk meeting any family members in the kitchen. I know I am not keen on too much interaction with my lodgers, but surely a small amount is acceptable? We – possibly with the exception of The Big Daughter – are not that scary, surely?
* This is because The Small Daughter had unplugged the router to charge her phone.