I moved the Lodger out on Sunday.
There were no tears. He is going to a better place – just off the King’s Road near Sloan Square. Des res – I am happy for him. He is a young man and needs to be in town. If I could afford to buy around there – well, that thought is in my ‘When I win the lottery’ game.
The Lodger came to me via Tango connections. My friend in London has a friend in Buenos Aires (who is originally from Milan, and who stayed with me a few days last year), who had a friend in Rome (we met this summer and she stayed with me awhile), who’s friend in Rome had a son that was moving to London (via Milan) to start a new job. Complicated.
The young man needed a place to stay until he could find a place of his own, and I had the space, as my kids are away until the holidays. I was a little concerned at first. What was I getting myself into? What will he be like? Will he like his room?
It was a blessing in disguise – little did I know that I would be made redundant the week he arrived. I think the Universe sent him to me to help me out – or maybe even to help him out. In any event, I think in some way we helped each other.
It was also a mixed blessing. I am not used to having strangers in my home – and certainly not to live. I am a bit set in my ways. I am not used to locking the bathroom door for starters. I had to get up a half hour earlier than normal to make sure I had hot water for my morning shower – that half hour was crucial – I am not a morning person. I couldn’t just walk around naked. Not that I would want to now, it is too darn cold, but it wasn’t an option. I like having options. I also didn’t get a chance to be really selfish. I had to think about someone else. I am always thinking about other people and was looking forward to some me time. It got postponed.
I have to say – this certainly was a learning experience. I learned a lot about the predatory tactics of the young Italian male. I have learned since, through my own market research, (i.e.: asking the guys at work) that it is really typical male behaviour and not particularly Italian. Perhaps the Italians are just more charming with it. The stories that the Lodger told me defied belief. I think I must be getting too old for all the complicated nonsense he talked about – it made my head spin.
He has also tried to use his charm on me, but I was wise to him and thought it was quite amusing. It was sweet in a way. I am not used to men being charming without wanting anything – I think I need to get out more and be around different people. He made me laugh one evening when he looked at me in a meaningful way and told me in all seriousness that he might like to have an experience with an older woman. Being old enough to be his mother, I told him that he was having an experience with an older woman, just not in the way he imagined! One needs to think out of the box.
The Lodger also had some very unusual eating habits which involved a lot of burning of my pots and pans. I was so intrigued about this aspect of his cooking, I wondered if he actually knew how to use a gas cooker, or if he was only used to electric. But no, that wasn’t it – he would get side-tracked – young people! He used to burn the pan for the milk for his cafe latte in the morning! It became a standing joke. I would end up invariably asking him what he was burning for dinner each evening.
Everyone has some habits that may be annoying to others. I am particularly blind to my own until someone shares them with me, so it was a learning experience living with someone that isn’t part of my family. I couldn’t really complain, apart from some recent food issues. He ate almost all of the pumpkin pie I made for a friend to try, but bought me enough fruit to last over a week. The bottle of wine was also a nice touch. What can you say to that? Thank you very much, I appreciate it.
I won’t miss having the Lodger around as I am looking forward to some me time – but I am grateful to have had him in my life for this short while. He is very sweet underneath all of the Italian macho thing he has going on, and he was good at tidying up after himself. It was also nice to have someone to talk to apart from the cat – and the cat can’t pour you a glass of wine.
I hope he is very happy with his new flatmates – a couple of Italians – heaven help the young females in Chelsea!
Now that little chapter is over, it’s time for another new beginning. Let’s see what happens!