A landlady needs to be fairly tyrannical to keep her lodgers under control. I have had a try at this type of regime but never managed it. Relationships with the lodgers become too familiar within days. Soon we all know about each others broken hearts, tricky relationships, two-timing partners.
So naturally we were affected by the homesick Australian, the architect with indogenous depression, the girl who neglected her little brown cringing dog, Marilyn with the upper-class, thug boyfriend and the lodger with the kleptomaniac friend who came to stay.
When my daughter was three, we moved into a whole house, but it made little difference. Along came the Desolate Barrister who had left his wife and children, then his mistress and her children arrived at our house, sometimes weeping silent tears as he trudged upstairs to his bleak bedroom.
Even in a fairly large house with Lodger on his own floor boundaries were still blurred. In fact he almost took over the house and its decor. He rebuilt the kitchen to his own specifications and tried to enforce rigorous standards of cleanliness in the home. He refused to use any tea-towels, cutlery or crockery in case they'd been contaminated with dog. It was time for him to leave. But by this time, I had a daughter of ten who was fond of lodger, and his children, who visited regularly. What a horrid Mummy I was to want poor Lodger to leave!
Now the Daughter's grown up and has more homework, more friends to stay and less desire to have her mummy around when she is entertaining. She has moved up to the top floor. Lucky girl. And lucky me. We have no more room for lodgers.
