Let the Skyfall

Oh the temptation, my latest enquiry is from an acupuncturist with some other esoteric speciality like cranial sacral therapy and he's studying Chinese medicine,  imagine having that on hand, in your actual house.  It's only just dawned on me, what I need to advertise for is a tenant who's a personal trainer, facialist, hairdresser and wardrobe stylist, with a car and we can share driving each other (not mad). I'd actually cut the rent in half for all that. Whereas what I really need is a damn publisher and concentrate on writing the next book. You see this is a bit of a dream world, in which a blog becomes a vehicle for all your wishes and you can try that whole visualising thing, where dreams are made real.

So, I should begin the letter from an Irish mother to her second son.... ‘I'm sorry pet but reinstatement to your room might have to wait. And because you're such an understanding, insightful philosophical student with a sharp grasp of economics you'll get this and thank me for it one day. It will give you the hunger to strive, to achieve, to buy that brownstone in New York with the granny flat.’

Ironically, first son much prefers his new arrangement in the penthouse/attic, he has a much bigger space, a TV his brother has to request use of and, worst of all, with no spare room for his visiting girlfriend she has nowhere else to stay other than his room. And I don’t think he’s sleeping on the sofa.

Lodger No.2 is excited about a house he's just seen in Ranelagh, sharing with a photographer, very cool place he says, I think it's the right move, for all of us. And he wants us to stay friends, it was a short reasonably pleasant lesson for both of us. And the boiler miraculously started working again today before the engineer came, bringing all the relief I needed that both lodgers will be warm and, hopefully, happy.

So, while the chicken lickens run amok telling us the sky will fall in, we will admire the horizon where the sea that separates us from the rest of the world meets the sky that hovers over all of us and only look at the blue bits.

Pot Boilers

It had to happen sooner or later. I've navigated the last six winters without boiler failure, or boiler service. As a woman, the service or maintenance of something that hasn't broken down, ie. a car or life-giving heating appliance is an option rather than an annual event. There are must-haves at 250 euro way up the list, well, there were.

In the six years since new boiler was installed to cater to the extension that is my workplace and cause of debt it has been exemplary, the only crib being the exorbitant cost of gas in this country. But as soon as cold Latvian lodger moves in, it goes on the blink. I've been getting up at 6.30 last two days to kick start it. I'd kick it if it wasn't so high. An entire morning was spent trying to find a service engineer who would touch it, 'oh that one, no, you'll have to get on to someone in Kerry,' I heard three times. As for Bord Gais, they must be the only call centre where they give their surname as well when they greet you after the twenty minutes of Greensleeves and ads for their efficiency. Clearly, shopping around is my thing, so on to the afternoon calls and back to Kerry.

I'm sure lodger no. 2 thinks it's a conspiracy to freeze him out, well that was a thought. But it's not working, he's being very understanding and each time I'm about to have 'the talk' who arrives only Absentee BF. Always welcomed but now he's added two days to the awkward moment. Men and their timing, if Carlsberg made them, I'd like mine a microwave, put him on at a 1000 watts, heat him up for 2 minutes and savour a warm dish watching the Oscars with a glass of chianti.... something like that.

I'll be waiting in for a three hour window for Kerry serviceman to call tomorrow. Well, truth be told, I'll be re-writing each word of my novel as usual. ABF is on a plane somewhere and lodger no. 2 is already vacuuming his room, being super-tenant. I'm particularly worried that the house won't be all warmed up for lodger no. 1's return from the UK between his ski trip to St Manton. That's St Anton in Austria where there's 10 men to every woman in the apres ski bar. See, timing, it's ski heaven for women.

My own timing was pretty bad this morning, telling CC# 2 he could have his old room back as it was affecting his studies being stuck in the linen cupboard and sharing a bathroom with his mum. I could see an immediate change in his lacklustre humour, with the hope of having somewhere to study for his finals and a bathroom to trash again. Now I have to stick to that plan and abandon the rental of the master en-suite. But desperado that I am, I've my eye on the linen cupboard which is a perfectly nice single room, I could possibly put a student into. The kind you make packed lunches and dinner for. Have I become a complete masochist or slave to the bank? 

As I sit and watch the Oscars, Lodger No. 2 comes into tell me he's had a look at two other places. Be still my beating heart, he's taken it on board himself. Bless, and worse, says, he didn't like them, 'because you've spoiled me.'