Three weeks had passed since I'd moved in. I'd cooked. I'd washed. I now understood all the house rules, at least I thought I did. Things seemed to be going rather well.
I'd got my landlord a small candle and a card thanking her for the hospitality so far and wishing her a happy new year. I'd been struggling to work out what she liked. I hadn't seen her eating or drinking that much. She'd served both wine and Prosecco but that didn't necessarily mean she liked them herself so I'd picked an apple and elderflower scented candle as that was the flavour of one of the juices she'd offered at lunch last week.
I still felt nervous whenever I used an appliance, or even walking down the stairs in case I was told that I'd done or not done something incorrectly but in spite of this, I was still ever so grateful to be in the house. After all those months of suffering the racket and carelessness of my previous housemates, the peace and tidiness of the loft conversion was like some kind of paradise.
One thing the new place had in common with the Isle of Dogs was that I barely saw my co-inhabitants. Earlier today, the landlord's cousin from the room next to mine, had appeared while I was cooking. It was only the third time I'd met her. "Smells good" she said as she passed me. Out of shyness, I said nothing at all in response, which must have seemed very odd.
If I'd known her better, I might have said that the sauce came out of a tub from Co-op. I was too embarrassed to say it though so I simply carried on eating. Still, I was bound to have another chance to chat to her. Our paths would probably cross again. In about week or so.
I'd got my landlord a small candle and a card thanking her for the hospitality so far and wishing her a happy new year. I'd been struggling to work out what she liked. I hadn't seen her eating or drinking that much. She'd served both wine and Prosecco but that didn't necessarily mean she liked them herself so I'd picked an apple and elderflower scented candle as that was the flavour of one of the juices she'd offered at lunch last week.
I still felt nervous whenever I used an appliance, or even walking down the stairs in case I was told that I'd done or not done something incorrectly but in spite of this, I was still ever so grateful to be in the house. After all those months of suffering the racket and carelessness of my previous housemates, the peace and tidiness of the loft conversion was like some kind of paradise.
One thing the new place had in common with the Isle of Dogs was that I barely saw my co-inhabitants. Earlier today, the landlord's cousin from the room next to mine, had appeared while I was cooking. It was only the third time I'd met her. "Smells good" she said as she passed me. Out of shyness, I said nothing at all in response, which must have seemed very odd.
If I'd known her better, I might have said that the sauce came out of a tub from Co-op. I was too embarrassed to say it though so I simply carried on eating. Still, I was bound to have another chance to chat to her. Our paths would probably cross again. In about week or so.
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