The Landlady: Rent Book Tales

Mind Your Language

I am writing this column on a brand new computer that I purchased with the extra money I have made by ill-advisedly renting out The Big Son’s room since his departure. I say ill-advisedly because four lodgers are definitely one too many. It is difficult to find a free gap in the busy kitchen schedule, where at least three of the lodgers seem to assemble complex and fairly stinky meals at least three times a day. The Small Daughter and I have had to resort to take-aways and watching TV in my bedroom like stroppy teenagers (although The Small Daughter actually IS a teenager and therefore has the right to be so).

I shall have to mind my Ps and Qs

Today, when speaking to one of my lodgers, who seems to work almost as much as I do, I was horrified to discover that he is friendly with a man who used to rent a flat off me in The Dark Ages. It was at least ten years ago when he and his girlfriend rented off me, but it appears that he still reads this column and has told my new lodger about it. This means that I shall have to mind my Ps and Qs when writing about the people who live in my house, although I have asked him not to tell the other lodgers my guilty secret.

Meanwhile, The Big Son is exceedingly happy to be away from the Mad House although both The Big Daughter and I agree that the new, testosterone-fuelled apartment needs a woman’s touch. On Sunday, The Big Son asked me to wait in for his new sofa to be delivered, which I happily did as I was feeling rather tired, having spent the previous night on an aborted hen night (long story) with The Big Daughter and her friends.

When the sofa finally arrived, it only just about fitted in the room as it is the most enormous sofa I’ve ever seen and I can easily envisage The Big Son and his flatmate G at either end watching the Dave Channel in the style of Joey and Chandler… I wonder if they have a spare room?