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Bree T-Shirt and the English Diary, Uncategorized

The Dead Man in the Closet, A Trojan Horse and Hamlet’s Father’s Ghost

Living in UK is not easy, you have to pay good money to rent old houses which keep bad smells and some ghosts in the corners. Shakespeare is breathing in your neck together with Hamlet, the skull and his father’s ghost. Moving to a new house was a real marathon, succeeded to do it in 3 days, record rewarded with insults and abuses uttered by the agency workers directly to me (you are stupid, get out of here, get out of the houses, too). Where should I go, after the deposit was paid and the monthly fee. The house is more spacious than the former one, which had only one bedroom and a quarter. It had an unsafe old dangerous gas boiler for heating and an extremely old and rusty electric boiler, very expensive because it consumed a lot of energy to boil a teapot of water. I used to call it Churchill, the dead man in the closet. Moving to a bigger house in three days sounds like a miracle, but it wasn’t. The owner is a tall, rather obsessive lady, currently in an intimate relationship with the letting agency’s manager, the one who insulted me. This woman is obsessed with old furniture and thinks that her old, bad, used, heavy furniture is very valuable. She keeps old things deposited in two rotten sheds outside, heavily locked. The loft of the house is a trespass zone where treasures from Cyprus are stored. Fierce interdiction to go up there. I wonder if there is something dangerous hidden there, an uranium rock or something of this sort. One of the problem is that she insists that all our electrical appliances that are put in her kitchen have to be in a perfect state to deserve the honour. All the furniture has to be perfect. But her furniture is old as Noah. There are two worn out old leather sofas, stained and ragged, heavy and gigantic, stinking horribly, kept into the living room against my will. I have my own recliners, in a much better shape and much more comfortable. This lady and the agency manager keep printing letters of notice, decisive emails and making threatening phone calls almost daily. She is a housewife in her early 50s with a small child, she has all the time in the world and considerable frustrations that she seems to pour it all on me. Let it rain, my lady … My fair lady …

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