My First Bedsit

 Things were pretty quiet in the days after the row. Mother in particular avoided me. I cannot say why I didn`t push the fact that she had gone behind my Fathers back and told me to leave or why I then allowed them to trick me with a `decorating my room ` trap in which my reply made me in the wrong somehow and deserving of a backhander. I suppose I was conditioned to expect no logic, honesty or support. And as ever that`s exactly what I got. I was still a little scared of leaving `home`, such as it was, but neither one of them said they would rather me stay and sensing I was hardly welcome, I decided to make the best of it and move to my little bedsit. My room was on the 1st floor of an old Victorian house now separated into 7 rooms for rent. 

 There were 2 shared toilets, a shower and bathroom. I later found out that all the other tenants were men. It was just the other side of town, not the worst of areas but certainly not the best, though it did have a good bus service. Curious to see where I was going to, when I mentioned ordering a taxi as I had quite a lot to take over, they offered to take me in the car, along with a very generous parcel of `a few old sheets n towels I can let ya av` from Mother. They filed up the stairs behind me and as my Father fetched in more boxes from the car, my Mother stared about the room in silence, with a similar expression that the Queen Mother had when inspecting bomb damage during the war.

 Not wishing to get drawn into yet another row I busied myself moving things about as she watched me, handbag in the crook of her arm, gloves in hand, looking totally out of place. 

 When the last things were bought in she turned to my Father  " Well then, shall we make a move Geoff ?" Almost implying they had been there a while and not 10 mins. "You`ll be alright on the bus to get back won`t you Amanda" my Father asked, with a faint whiff of concern "Yes, of course" I answered quickly, eager to sound independent. And with that they left, I heard the front door of the house shut and I stood listening to silence. For a moment I thought I was going to cry but using my training I choked it back, put my transistor radio on and set about polishing and scrubbing everything insight. The room looked a little dingy so the following week when a friend came over we had a lot of fun sloshing cheap paint and cheap plonk about in equal measures. My new home took some getting used to, I didn`t sleep too well at first listening to every coming and going and afraid of the dark I kept the electric fire light on. 

The old fashioned sash window looked out over the downstairs extension and then on to the unkept garden which met a boundary wall of a factory over the back of the house.

The single bed could be fastened to the wall to allow more floor space but I soon realised it made the bed damp in colder months so I left it down. There was an electric fire, I had bought with me a wobbly, unwanted coffee table from my Parents and on that sat my black and white TV from my old bedroom along with my now ancient stereo system. In the corner was a small single wardrobe and draws combined following along to a table and 2 chairs and then the sink, cupboard and Baby Belling 2 ringed cooker. 

I arranged my few nic nacs about and to the armchair I added the patchwork cushion I made at Aunt Iris`s all those years ago. It was quite cosy by the time I had finished. I kept the metre fed with 50p`s and watched closely as it spun round like mad when the fire was on. In Winter I had a lot of early nights with 2 hot water bottles as I couldn`t keep up with the cost. I also had a rabbit fur coat {it was the 80`s after all !} which I lay on top of my blankets and I have to say it kept me very warm underneath even though I could see my breath in the air on some frosty mornings.

 I sometimes ate a hot meal in a cafe in town on my lunch break and made a sandwich for tea or had soup and toast. Biscuits were a staple. 

 As I had no fridge I was limited what I could keep in and lived out of tins mostly. A pint of milk kept fresh on my windowsill in Winter and in Summer I took my coffee black. I actually grew to like living by myself, the pitfalls were greatly out weighed my being `Mother free` and at last I knew the pleasure of going home knowing there would be no drama or atmosphere to walk into. I listened to music, watched TV, read a lot and managed 2 or 3 nights out a week still, as well as the odd bottle of wine, I felt very grown up ! The other residents provided a certain amount of entertainment. There was a `heavy rocker` on the top floor who played his music quite loudly, I would hear people knocking on the ceiling sometimes until one day, after a lot of shouting, the gay guy down the hall, who was quite butch, grabbed him round the throat, slammed him up the wall and threatened to kill him if it didn`t stop, I know this because I was peeping through the keyhole watching in case there was a terrible fight and I needed to barricade my door. There was also an old lech who`s room was next to the bathroom, when I had a bath I would put a towel up the over the net curtains to be sure he couldn`t see in and I never used the bathroom at night because with the light on there was no privacy at all.

There was a rugged looking man in his 40`s downstairs, who me and my friends thought looked like Kenny Rogers so the nickname stuck. He seemed a decent bloke and told me any trouble I was to knock his door for help and then proceeds to tell me he`s a long distance lorry driver and hardly ever there....OK then. Scariest of all, other than an odd humongous spider, was the front door getting kicked in by an angry gang looking for the lad from the downstairs front room, who we all suspected of drug dealing. He had long gone though and just as I was contemplating climbing out of the window in case they kicked in every door to see if he was hiding in someone else`s room, the gay guy came out and yet again saved the day by telling them all to `do one` or he was calling the police and as they all looked the sort to be carrying a stash they quickly cleared off, leaving the landlord to arrive and repair the door, swearing profusely and muttering about having to put the rent up. 

 Then there was my laundry, I found it best to wash an odd thing out each night at the sink, they took a day or so to dry after being rung out and that way I made sure I always had clean undies and a top for work. Every other week, on my day off, I stripped my bed, gathered any other washing I could find and caught the bus to the launderette. I would sit reading my book to pass the time while it washed and dried. Miss Read now replaced by Jackie Collins or Stephen King.

 I lived there for about 18 months and after 6 months or so my Father lost what was to be his final job and they began to feel the pinch financially. When I visited on Sundays she would eye me up and down to gauge how well I was doing by any new clothes I may have on, question me how often I went out and moan about how short they were these days, my Father looking uncomfortable and browbeaten. I imagined that he got 100% of her vitriol now, as I wasn`t about. 

 She then decided they could not afford the meat for the Sunday Roast that they asked me over for, so would I help out and buy a joint from the butchers in town on Saturday on my lunch break, as it was so cold in my bedsit she was sure it would stay fresh over night. And like a complete fool I did just that, why on earth didn`t I say I could not afford to and I would skip the lunch ?! 

I spent 2 Christmas`s  in my first bedsit where I remember budgeting carefully to begin buying my Parents gifts well in advance, one a week. I can remember vividly them all arranged on the floor when I had finished wrapping and thinking to myself how I would be in their good books with such a selection. In hindsight, I wish I wasn`t so conditioned to constantly please, I should of told them no gifts this year as I had to feed the electric meter and stop the onset of hypothermia. I was asked to stay for a couple of days over Christmas and the final year it was bitterly cold.

 When I returned to my room, as there had been no heat on at all for days and lots of the other tenants had been away too, I found the pipes had frozen, ice on the inside of the windows and the landlord in Tenerife. 

 I pondered what to do and my Father, perhaps finally getting the full measure of how I had been managing, took me back to their house, where on hearing of my dilemma she leapt on it with a plea for me to `come back home Amanda, you can`t stay there with no water and {heres the big AND} you could give me your board again, we could do with it couldn`t we Geoff and I`d do you a sandwich to take to work` she adds by way of sealing the deal...at a loss of what to do and conditioned to do as I was told, despite my new found independence, I felt cornered and with seemingly no other option I gave in. She did my sandwiches for 2 or 3 days and then they were forgotten about, though she greedily fingered the notes of the first keep I gave her, wondering could I help with the electric bill too.