My sister and I rent a nice flat


My sister and I rent a nice flat in a mansion block, which doesn’t even deserve that qualification as we have mice in our house.  Charlotte in a fit of disgust has stuffed wire wool in the many gaps found in the ‘period’ wooden floors; read here gaps that mean that if a pound coin did roll under the floor you could reach your hand in to get it.

I came home to her sitting up in bed with the covers high under her chin, every possible light on and about three quarters of duck tape plastered over the floors and up the skirting board.

I don’t know if it’s because right now anyplace is like home except home, but I’ve been out a lot more often in the evenings, mainly with my best drinking friend but also with other friends who I haven’t seen for a while. 

There’s not a personal reason why we don’t see each other more except the old chestnut that we’re really busy, explain why I see my drinking buddy so often then, and this week we’ve met to the backdrop of art openings where conversation doesn’t get much further then why haven’t we met up for so long? what are you up to? occasionally, who are you again? but things are changing so fast at the moment that it’s been a relief to stop and enjoy unexpected meetings with people that I’ve always liked but never see.