#28
Marlon Snoops Around Strangers’ Homes
My mum often house-sits for rich people who have animals. Sometimes I visit these houses for my own amusement, and to get some kind of insight into the mysterious world of the upper-middle class. In this instance, I am in a four bedroom house, owned by a man who has some kind of connection to the computer industry, and as of recently owns a pub. The pub-ownership is reflected in the house, which shares the deep red colour-scheme, aged leather furniture, and musty smell of the typical English alco-hole. Also to be found is an impressive but conservative drinks cabinet, taking pride of place in the dining room. It features a wide array of crystal-ware, a variety of cocktail spirits (none too cheap) as well as a few mostly-empty bottles of what I presume is fine cognac. In one of the bedrooms upstairs, miniatures line one half of the window-ledge, mostly aged scotches.
There are two friendly and gentle greyhounds living in the house, who my mother is looking after while the owner is away. Their names, if I remember correctly, are Wally and Clanger. The dogs are well trained and have free-roam of the house, although also are given their own bedroom, with individual dog beds as well as a single human bed and a desk. I am unsure what the desk is for, as they do not seem to keep much stationary (a fact which I discovered while searching for some paper and pencils to occupy my childish mind). While I am staying the night on one of the living-room sofas in a sleeping bag, my mother is in the main spare-room. The room is, quite frankly, terrifying. The double-bed (arranged, unnervingly, so that the sleeper’s head faces away from the door although being placed right next to it, leaving one primed for attack by intruders) takes up only a small amount of space in the room, which is otherwise filled with a collection of requisite old-house Creepy Dolls. The pride of the collection, seemingly, is a doll in an old-fashioned pram, which is positioned at an angle from the bed so as to be all the sleeper can see while in bed. My mum does not enjoy sleeping in this room.
The master bedroom is quite pleasant, with a good sized TV at the foot, but reeks of tobacco smoke, which thankfully seems to resigned to this one chamber. The rest of the house smells only of age. The other bedroom is unremarkable, other than the miniatures on the windowsill, and there is one multi-purpose room full of un-organised things, essentially just a cupboard, which sent me into an unusual daze when I opened the door and looked inside. For a moment my pulse quickened in my ears, and I felt much like I imagine people who believe they have seen ghosts must feel often. I do have a cold, however.
