tulse hill oblivion

The absent hosts have an expensive phone. It has a built-in answerphone and if I only knew how to make it work I could also use the speakerphone. It sits proudly on the low coffee table like a jewel in the crown.

+++

At dawn, Sedley and Matthew head off for a walk. There’s people crashed out on the sofa. I think I’m still up when they get back. It’s a Latin night. Sedley tells me that Matthew started leaping over cars. I’ll use this dubious piece of information for the best man’s speech.

+++

A baby screams downstairs. It screams at any time of night or day. It’s screaming is muted by the walls. It’s a comforting sound.

+++

I drink too much and sink against a wall and feel like all I want to do is get out of there, even though I’ve only been there a month or so and I like the place. I wonder why I always end up feeling like this. No matter where I live.

+++

We go out round the corner to the pub. It could be our first night out. Everything is reinvented. Pub; friends; beer; England. Everything is brand new and tastes better than it’s ever done before. There’s a bouncy castle in the back garden. It lures us in and we all bounce. We bounce without effort. Drunken adults bounce with an ease and grace that would put absent children to shame.

+++

I spend the whole night awake with a headache. I walk round the ample sized sitting room, moan a bit. The sun comes up. At six I walk down to the garage to buy some aspirin. The early morning air is mild. It has the texture of a fine school morning. Having fought the headache through the night, I know the worst is done. The aspirin will kill it. The headache is still there, but my frown has gone.

+++

I rifle through my absent hosts music collection. Listen to The Specials and Gil Scott Heron and Sly and the Family Stone and Aztec Camera. Music has a way of clinging to place, like a vine.