Everything new is old

Wednesday 19th: 6am waking. Yes, this is becoming a habit. Damn. And it was a very cold morning. Bet Falmouth is warm and sunny… I explored the flat a little more last night. I’ve never lived in a basement before, and it was different to how I had imagined. For a start, it wasn’t as dark as I’d worried about. I was a little below ground level, but the light came through, there was just a measure of twilight. It was a little weird looking up to see the driveway and street.

One thing the family who own it asked me was if it was too big! Definitely not. After just having a room in Falmouth, it was a luxury to be able to walk from room to room, and wander about through doors. I think they understood when I told them this. Very true though. Stairs too. There was an office level above me, and at night, feeling slightly naughty, I slipped upstairs to peep.

The house is an old house, close to Keble college in a road filled with old houses, which delighted my heart. Something I fell in love with in Oxford - the extravagance of old architecture, which is still standing. Not like Birkenhead where streets of dignified Victorian houses have been felled. This house had been converted in the 1930s into two flats, a lady who was a Don at one of the colleges had lived there, to a great age. And somehow, she had never quite left. The rooms had old furniture in them, and had a breath of times past, faded gold brocade on armchairs, sage green standard lamps, dark wood side tables. But not unpleasant. There was something strange about the upper bathroom though, which had the luxury of a bath and the invitation to use it. Something about the noises of the house breathing maybe, and the tick of the water meter. It made me think of ghost stories and memories. But I wasn’t scared any of the time I was there, it was a good house.

I felt very welcomed, and by this day, my third day, I felt a part of it. The cupboards had my food in, I knew where to buy milk, and I had chosen a chair to sit in whilst working or watching TV. In the office, I had a peg to hang my jacket on, and a parking space I had used for the third time. People’s names had sunk in and I could begin to feel more confident that I knew what I was doing.

I had a slightly strange encounter in the office with the lady who worked on reception and admin. She gave me a guided tour, which I’d already had, and gave me lots of sheets of paper, and left me for a long time sitting rather unsure of myself while she went to fix a telephone. I found it quite disconcerting talking to her as there were very long pauses between sentences, and just as I was feeling maybe it was a cue for me to say something, she would continue. Subsequently, I made ridiculous detours through rooms to avoid seeing her, as when I did speak to her, it felt like I was about to become trapped in a strange void. Possibly I imagine too much about people.