Banksy and Kovac in one day

CC#2 Dublinlandlady CC#1

Walton's it wasn't. But a sort of spontaneous welcome dinner happened for Dr Kovac, who, now that I've spent more than five minutes with him isn't at all like the hunk on ER, but the name will stick. After I'd shown him to his room and let him settle into bewilderment, I did one of those kitchen interviews again, I was getting used to them, though this was punctuated with translation issues. Best to show him the useful phone apps, Dublin Bus and Hailo. Now he can enter and exit the city in total confidence, the rest I'll leave to the Latvian and IT community until I gather tourist momentum. 

I took myself out with the dog to figure out what to do next. Stay out and not come home came to mind. Texted CC #1 to see if he'd like to cook dinner for himself and his brother. All his favourite ingredients for a hefty carbonara were in the fridge. Those boys like nothing more than dollops of cream and egg on a bacon slathered carb fest. I suggested he make enough to feed new lodger. Who, I am glad to say sat with us and was probably relieved that the sting was taken out of his own strange predicament. 

Poor old CC #2 has now lost his shower room, but being a young Buddha, he isn't taking it out too much on the family. Remember when they gave up their bottle or got potty trained and you bought them a reward? I'm nearly at that point.

I could hear Kovac negotiating the kitchen this morning, best to leave him to it and grab any excuse to snooze another few minutes. Being another gorgeous sunny day helped. Come on, there's worse ways to survive this.

A friend who's heading to Japan for a year emailed to say she was looking for an electrician to sort a few things before she abandoned her apartment to a minder. I remembered Huggy Noddy and gave him a call, 'Are you in?' he asked, 'I've something for you.' Pause, as I gathered myself. 'Something arty,' he encouraged. He arrived with some sheets of timber and a can of spray paint, and made his way to the back garden. When I went to see what was going on, he had a stencil of me and my kids, he'd photographed a family portrait last time he was in my kitchen and was now creating his own Banksy version of us. I suspended the weird factor and figured this was one of the ideas he said he want to talk to me about. 

You know, it was really good and very, very novel. Well, to me anyway. When the twenty-somethings saw it, the proof was in the reaction. Perplexed and amused, we were all surprised. Your family portrait graffiti'd in your garden? Not for everyone - but I'm sold, there are no wrinkles.

Somebody once told me that guilt, or was it worry, is like paying interest
on a loan you haven't yet taken out. Equally, no point in worrying about a
problem that can be solved and, even more, no point in worrying about a problem that
can't be solved. It's all easier said than done, isn't it?

The lovely puppy-eyed girl went and found an alternative room yesterday, so
all is sorted. It would appear that I'm up and running as a landlady and can
turn my attention back to finding an ideal job, or getting my book published, or even writing another one.