I’m aware the whole site has become a bit Hibernian related recently and that is fine for followers who are Hibernian supporters, or even interested in football. For people who follow me for other reasons it’s probably getting a bit wearing.
So here’s a blog about living on my own. No, not the wonderful Queen song, but the actual act of living alone. Is living alone an act? Who knows? It’s certainly interesting.
Although in my – ahem – middle-to-late thirties (pushing the boat out a bit there), I, for whatever reason, have always lived with someone. Well, apart from the 6 weeks my cousin entrusted me with her family home while they went to Australia. This was a few years ago now, when I was in my twenties. OK, more than a few years ago then! Jeezo.
During that six weeks the bathroom flooded and I had to rip up the carpet. I couldn’t find the source of the leak but whenever I turned on the sink tap or the bath tap the entire bathroom filled up a bit…
Add to that the day the neighbour upstairs knocked down because I had my music on. Middle of the day, cleaning the house and I had some music on. Just about every night they locked their rarely-walked dog in a bedroom and pissed off to the pub. Every night that poor dog howled and howled.
So, one day, a few days after the knocking down, I went to the local shops. There she was, the woman of the house upstairs. She was standing with a group of friends. Or associates, who knows? Anyway, she made for me first. I merely put my hand up and stopped her. Anyone who knows me will know that I am not backwards at coming forwards and I will say what I think.
I can’t remember entirely what I said but it went along the lines of ‘if you bang down again when I have my music on I’ll just turn it up louder’. No, it wasn’t that haha. I basically told her she’d had it if she knocked down again and I’d get that dog out the house away for her and her thick other half and I’d make it so they wanted to move house very soon. Well, words to that effect. It worked though. The dog suddenly got walked, they were very quiet and when they went out the dog got the freedom of the house when they were out and seemed quite happy at that. It was a fairly quiet five weeks after that. Well, not when I had my music on.
Aside from that, I only left their house unlocked for 12 hours while away just the once!
So, here I am, living on my own. I’m loving it. An entire two bedroom paradise all to myself and I call it Fox Towers (because it’s upstairs). It’s a five minute walk from Fox Manor, the land of mother and father. This has been both a blessing – suddenly deciding to nip round for tea when I can’t think of anything, and also a burden – mother suddenly appearing at the door when I’m eating my tea. (Only joking mother, you’re welcome any time…).
I moved last December and, due to a cock-up, had to sleep on my brand new mattress for almost a month until my bed arrived on the 23rd. Sleeping on a mattress on a floor like a student was a novelty that wore off after about two nights. When you’re my age with a dodgy back…well, there is no dignity in having to haul yourself up with the help of the wall and the window ledge…
I’ve also discovered I have conversations with things. This hadn’t really been something I had thought about until Thursday evening when I found myself talking to the washing machine. I’d put it on at four in the afternoon, on a Quick Wash and three and a half hours later it finally slipped into what might have been it’s final spin. So, I found myself in the kitchen asking it if it was thinking about finishing any time soon. I then added ‘please, because I need to get the stuff out and dried for Saturday’. It obliged. I then thought about it and realised I also speak to the boiler an awful lot. It has a pressure problem. It drops suddenly and then “err 108” flashes on the screen. This will usually happen just as I have stepped in the shower and turned the water on. Rather than lovely, instant hot water, it’ll be frozen. That’ll be followed by ‘effing boiler’ a string of expletives as I have to get out the shower, find a towel or house coat, run through to the kitchen and up the pressure by twisting both of it’s knobs. Hard. I’ll then ask it why it has to do this to me when it was working fine five minutes before I stepped in the shower. It’s answer is just to burst into life and provide me with the hot water I need for a shower. Thanks!
On continued reflection I realised I have had converstions with the TiVo box (what is you are recording because I have set nothing up?), the printer (why does my laptop say you’re printing when you can’t even get out of standby mode?), I’ve had conversations with my curtains and my hoover (about how useless it is on hoovering my stairs, I had to buy a hand held one for this task!). I also had to ask my Hibs (had to get them in somehow haha) calendar why it fell off the wall.
I met the aforementioned cousin on the bus on Friday and she asked me that now I’m on my own, do I talk to myself? I just looked at her and said ‘Oh, um, well, sometimes I suppose!’. Well, it’s true. I’m normally speaking to something!
Oh, and I casually mentioned to the washing machine earlier than when it goes I’m getting a twin tub.