Wednesday, September 17, 2003
Man comes in. Kindly wipes feet on mat. Asks a few questions. Walks around the flat with a little thingummy that says beep. Raps on walls with knuckle. Goes out on balcony. Comes back in. Sighs. Hums. Walks around some more.
Meanwhile I stand around, a prisoner in my own flat, tidying things that don't need tidying, shifting magazines from A to B and back again. Do my hair.
I am very uncomfortable.
Should one offer a cuppa?
Should one chat chirpily?
Should one start doing something without regard to the man?
I really don't like having strangers in my house, be it plumbers or gas-meter readers or, as in this case, someone who determines the value of flats. I don't know why it is I feel so awkward and kinda too big. Too big for the flat, that's it. As if the flat has tried me and decided that I don't fit in, not when there are strangers present. I become stranger than the stranger. And then, as soon as the stranger leaves, the flat becomes mine again and we settle comfortably together.
Meanwhile I stand around, a prisoner in my own flat, tidying things that don't need tidying, shifting magazines from A to B and back again. Do my hair.
I am very uncomfortable.
Should one offer a cuppa?
Should one chat chirpily?
Should one start doing something without regard to the man?
I really don't like having strangers in my house, be it plumbers or gas-meter readers or, as in this case, someone who determines the value of flats. I don't know why it is I feel so awkward and kinda too big. Too big for the flat, that's it. As if the flat has tried me and decided that I don't fit in, not when there are strangers present. I become stranger than the stranger. And then, as soon as the stranger leaves, the flat becomes mine again and we settle comfortably together.
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