Untenable. That is the only word that I think summarises my current position.
I used to joke upon flying back to the U.K every year, that it was my ‘Welcome homeless tour‘. (Which technically, it was.) I don’t have an actual home. My fractious family, which I have blogged about in the past, aren’t really people that I can rely on putting me up for any sustainable length of time.
I’ve been staying at a friends family home since early February, which has been helpful. In fact, other than a few hiccups with the matriarchal host, things have been great. Despite having offers, there aren’t many friends that I’d feel comfortable inconveniencing for such a length of time.
However, recently, I’ve felt that there have been several subtile digs made at my expense. Ones that I’ve been unable to look past. Remarks about the house requiring a ‘deep clean’, how quickly food is vanishing and daily comments about how certain items need replacing, ‘again’. Although these comments may not have been spoken at me directly, (rather said out aloud into the ether, within my vicinity.) Sensitive soul that I am, I took them personally.
Regrettably, I’m not in a financial position to help out to any great extent, so its damaged my pride knowing that I’m thought of as being such a burden.
Then there’s the change in atmosphere. One word answers when attempting conversations, steely side glances of apparent intrusion when my friends mother thinks that I’m not watching her, it all places me in a spot where I no longer feel welcome. My friend tries his best to appease both of us, but it’s not fair on him. Something needs to change…So that’s what I’ve decided is going to happen.
When there are no options for alternate accommodation, the only choice is no accommodation at all. Until something better comes along, I will be calling the streets of London my home from Wednesday of next week.
This should be interesting.