Friday, 11 March 2016

The Lodger Legacy

Apparently, according to those holistic minds in the know, we are meant to gain something significant from every romantic relationship we have.  And in some cases I most certainly believe I have.  But these cannot be shared with you my lovely blog readers.  Instead I want to pass on the top three gifts I’ve been left with by the many lodgers who have passed through the doors of Che Rae since I first waived the need for a visa to inhabit my land of Spare Oom.

All my life I’ve been a tea and Milo drinker.  The occasional drop of whisky or Prosecco has also been known to pass my lips.  But coffee was never at the top of my drinking list.   That is, until the gorgeous Elisa from Rome entered Che Rae and ruined me forever.  Together with her mama, she lured me in with milky coffee mixtures until I was hooked on the caffeine and could live without it no longer.  Now I am forced to drink at least one cup per day and have even been heard to say that I prefer one blend over another.

After the Italian coffee hustler returned to the delights of the Colosseum and the Trevi fountain, Spare Oom was then visited by Cesare.  With him came jars of his father’s incredible honey and a mind full of many Polish home remedies to cure any ill.  Some I tried.  Others I did not.  But the one which works for me time after time is the cold cure of honey and vodka in warm milk before bedtime.  I’m neither a scientist nor a doctor so have no means of testing the why of the efficacy of this remedy.  All I can say is that when I imbibe it I sleep like a drugged baby and wake in the morning sans cold symptoms. And I have since come to learn that there is such a thing as honey vodka.  It seems the list of my tipples will be growing in number.

Now to the final gift.  Though whether it is truly a gift I’m still not quite certain.  It is however an entrenched and established part of my life because of the energetic and most loveable Kaatje.  Yes, due to this young lady’s influence, I am now totally and utterly addicted to watching PooPourri adverts on youtube. 

WARNING:  If you’re at work, please don’t view this now.  It may cause hilarity which will bring your colleagues in your open plan office gathering round to re-watch the ad.  This will in turn get your boss out of her/his office.  S/he will not be amused and you may all be fired as a consequence.  I most certainly don’t want that.  

Although, you’ll then have time on your hands, hence you'll be able to catch up on my past blog posts as well as all my other works on Wattpad etc.

Seriously people – DON’T WATCH THIS WHILE AT WORK!

So, having potentially corrupted you with this final offering, I leave it to you dear blog readers to decide if my life has indeed been enriched by my various lodgers over the years.


  1. Never knew having lodgers would be so enlightening! I do know that a maker of gorgeous high end face creams, hand creams etc, sells more of its 'Post poo drops' than any other product.

  2. You have such an excellent way of celebrating others, Rae.

    My lodger wasn’t exactly a lodger but a tenant of my one-bedroomed flat while I was away for just under 2 years. Recommended by friends, she seemed ideal: a Jewish Hebrew scholar doing a Masters on the Book of Esther. She was also a professional cricket umpire.

    So I left the basic furniture, as she had little and we met fairly regularly as she would occasionally shut the door without having the keys in her possession. I did wonder as even in winter she would turn up at my new place in just a T-shirt. She said she didn’t feel the cold. She wore plastic gloves at all times because of her OCD.

    I did give her 6 months’ notice of my wish to move back in, but on the day I was due to move in, she was still there. I gently cajoled and she eventually moved out that day, and, the following day, I got in and had a look.

    The flat was very clean and smelled of bleach. She had left me a present of 4 glasses – most of which I still have. But on the floor everywhere in the living room and bedroom were dozens and dozens of coins. Her note said, “Keep the change. I was not able to pick it up.”

    Had it been under a pound, I would have done. But it came to £12.76. I knew she wasn’t that well off, so I collected it all up and sent her a cheque.

    The cooker was covered in rust. I still don’t know why. Maybe she never had the heating on. Or felt able to clean the cooker. Or maybe she never used it.

    1. Thank you for sharing Bev and enjoying my sense of fun.

      The rusty cooker seems so incongruous considering she had OCD. There are all sorts in life.