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Yes, ma’am

Writing.ie | Member Blog

Deirdre Conroy

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I’ve given up on the lodger interview process. It’s time to let the dog decide.

I’ve had the Sudanese anaesthetist, weighed that up as a good idea to have a doctor in the house. He was keen, promised to sign any regulations, never heard from him again. Only today CC#2 asked if I knew that muslims are not supposed to shake hands with women, that’ll be the reason; I always profer the hand in welcome, the eye contact. I could be looking for a room one day.

The Italian fella doing a PhD didn’t want to leave without signing an agreement, ‘give me two days to think about it’,  I asked. He soon found something else. Then there was the 73-year old man who’d lost his fortune and home, he told me his life story in half an hour, I knew it wasn’t for him, I hoped he’d refuse,  he did, the distance from the bus stop was too far.

Since then, nothing but a deluge of requests from girls, I’m thinking the ban on women from the cost centers will have to go. Many are Italian doing PhDs in UCD, good for us if we’ve got such attractive learning programmes. And I love Italy, I could swap homes with their families, practice the lingo. But they’re all too young; I’d inherit another child, just when I’m out of motherdom.

There’s a 30-year old from South Africa who doesn’t even want to see the room, her company will sponsor her, she sent a photograph, gorgeous, too like the beautiful model who died in Oscar Pistorius’ home. She’s with a cosmetics company, what’s not to like? Too keen, and I bet she won’t want to share the cost centre’s bathroom. On hold.

Missing her friends
Missing her friends

I reply to all of them, being very frank about the fact it isn’t a fun student house-share, think of all you wouldn’t want as a 22-year old in ‘fun Ireland’, suburbia, mum at home, who’d want that?

A flame-haired final year vet student arrived yesterday, she called me ma’am, she’s from Texas, the dog was stashed in a bedroom, her bark is worse than her lick. I liked this girl, big time. Tess (the dog) has had nobody else to play with since 8 December when the entire family that shared her since she was a baby, emigrated. First it was the husband, two years ago, now his wife and three children have joined him. Tess had to put up with me and the costcentres squeezing in a bit of run with her, her girth is embarrasing, not far behind mine.

I let her out of CC#1’s bedroom where she is confined while I write, as she barks the house down when anyone approaches the cul-de-sac. She and the Texan bonded, she could have her own private vet. Forget the sons; the dog rules.

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