Time since last Internet usage: 4 days, 21 hours, 37 minutes and 21 seconds
‘It’s day four in the Big Brother house, all of the housemates are going slightly mad. They’ve locked themselves in the world’s smallest bathroom and have taken to ripping the tiles and wallpaper off the wall to entertain themselves,’ I say in my best Geordie accent, which sounds more like I’m from Liverpool.
Rosie smiles a little and Alexis looks at me with confusion. It’s probably the accent. I have enough trouble understanding it, let alone a non-native English speaker.
The more I think about it, the more I think I have in common with the Big Brother housemates. Trapped away from the outside world; no TV, phones or Internet; forced to cook on random rations – my sister doesn’t appear to be a very practical shopper – and to make polite conversations with strangers – Alexis, and, to a lesser extent, Rosie. The only real difference that I can see, aside from millions of people watching their plight, is that they have a shower. What I wouldn’t give for a shower now . . . I wouldn’t even mind the millions of people watching me have one.
I’ve been steaming wallpaper off the wall for two days. Not only is it tedious, but it’s also hot. I’m a right stinky mess, and I know that I’m edging ever closer to the barn shower.
True to her word, Rosie got Alexis to whip up a shower cubicle outside. I think she thought putting it in the barn would provide an element of privacy. Only, with the light flooding in from the holes in the roof and the use of a white shower curtain, I’m pretty sure that there would be some naked shadow puppetry going on.
I’ve been putting it off, but I’m slightly conscious that the three of us are working in such close proximity, and both Alexis and Rosie have braved the cubicle, so if I don’t go soon, they’re going to realise that the funky smell in here has nothing to do with the old toilet.
The only thing I’m glad of right now is that Rosie didn’t get Alexis to whip up a toilet too. Instead, she’s ordered a Portaloo, saying that it will be useful for when contractors are on site anyway, as when the bathroom is all finished, she’s not going to want any muddy boots ruining it again.
So far, the project itself is going well. I’ve covered a wall of the sitting room in Post-it notes with all the work that needs to be done. Not only does the room require a much-needed boost of colour, but it also meticulously plots the path of outstanding work. Rosie went to the village and stood in the phone box for over an hour making phone calls to various builders, and we now have the next few weeks planned solidly.
As for the three of us living and working together, so far we are getting on quite well. But I think that’s mainly because Alexis can only understand what we say if he concentrates, and the rest of the time he seems to zone out. I can’t say I blame him. To make conversation, Rosie’s been filling me in on the last few years of EastEnders episodes that I’ve missed. To give Alexis credit, he did try to stay with the plot lines, saying that it helped with his English, but then Rosie told me that Kathy came back from the dead and we lost him. Since I’m now fully up to date, things have gone pretty quiet and we’re struggling to find a replacement topic.
‘Finished,’ says Alexis, doing a fist pump as he pulls the last tile off the wall.
‘Blimey,’ I say, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork.
The smashed avocado tiles litter the floor as he stands in the cast-iron bath that’s covered in a towel. Rosie didn’t want to make it any worse before the restorer comes to recoat the enamel next week.
It’s hard to say it looks great, as now the wall’s bumpy and uneven, but it looks a whole lot better now that it doesn’t look as if someone’s thrown up on it after a heavy night of tequila.
‘All I’ve got to do now is sand it off,’ she says, ‘and then I can start tiling again tomorrow. Great work, Alexis. Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off?’
‘Thanks, I go for a walk up the hill. Daisy, you like to come too?’
‘No, thank you,’ I say, thinking back to my last walk and how badly that ended. I promised myself I wouldn’t try that again until I was properly kitted out.
‘You should have gone with him,’ says Rosie as he leaves. ‘It’s probably easier if you’re out of the way when I sand the plaster back. It’s going to get really dusty.’
‘Nah, I really should take a shower, and if he’s out, I’ll probably feel a little bit more comfortable in the barn.’
‘It’s really not that bad. I mean, he’s put some Perspex on the top of it so that the pigeons can’t poop on you while you’re in there.’
‘You’re really selling it to me.’
I blow a bit of sweaty hair away from my face as I finish off the bit of wall I’m working on. I step back, feeling proud at my handiwork. I’m probably going to feel more exhausted than proud by the time I’ve stripped the wallpaper off all four bedrooms too, but for the moment I’m feeling accomplished.
‘It’s a good feeling, isn’t it?’ says Rosie, raising an eyebrow. ‘If I’m honest, I find it quite addictive.’
‘I can see that. It’s nice to actually make an immediate difference to something.’
‘That’s it exactly,’ she says, nodding so enthusiastically that she chips out part of the wall as she scrapes a bit of paper. ‘I think that’s why I couldn’t go back to an office job.’
I look carefully at the wall, tilting my head; I’m not quite at that point yet. ‘It’s a nice break, but I can’t see that I’d like to do it full-time. Every muscle in my body is aching, for starters.’
‘Yeah, it’s a lot more physical. But maybe it will tempt you away from going back to marketing.’
I start to collect the discarded wallpaper that’s strewn all over the floor and place it into a bin liner. ‘That’s if the marketing industry will have me back. The more I think about what happened, the more it worries me that no one is going to give me a job ever again.’
I’m thankful that at least with the house renovations there’s a lot to keep my mind occupied so I don’t have to think about it, as I’m not qualified for anything else.
‘I don’t know what else I’d do, or if I want to do anything else. I did really love my job. OK, so it was maybe a bit too full-on and busy, but I’d love to do the same sort of thing with a smaller company.’
‘It’s hard, isn’t it?’ says Rosie, perching on the side of the bath. ‘We’re told that we’re supposed to want these great jobs and then when we get them, we realise that it’s to the detriment of our lives. I don’t think I really noticed it when I was working, but since I left and I see Ru – or I don’t see Ru – during the week, I see how much of our life he’s missing out on.’
She looks a little lost and it’s interesting getting a glimpse into her life. It’s funny, as I’d always been so envious of her life with Rupert and their beautiful flat, but it seems as if it’s not all as perfect as it looked.
‘It’s a shame that you don’t like doing this, though. We could have gone into business together,’ she says, laughing.
‘Oh, yes, I’m sure Mum would be well impressed if we both became professional strippers.’
‘Watch it. I’m managing a property portfolio, I’ll have you know.’
‘That’s fair enough. I just don’t think it’s really me. I wish I was one of those people who harboured a secret dream to run their own company, like baking cupcakes or running a little country cafe, but I liked my job.’
I shake my head. It was nicer not thinking about the future and just mindlessly pulling off wallpaper.
‘I think I’m going to take that shower now,’ I say, picking up the last of the rubbish on the floor. ‘I’ll take this down on my way.’
I peer out the window on the landing and I see the tiny spec of Alexis walking on the horizon. Pleased that the coast is well and truly clear, I grab some toiletries and clean clothes and hurry to the barn before I can change my mind.
I slide the door open, leaving it slightly ajar, as the last thing I want to do is get stuck in here like Alexis did that time. Rosie would probably struggle to hear me over the sander and I’ve got no desire to be shouting again for someone to rescue me.
Pecking around the floor between me and the shower are half a dozen pigeons cooing away. I’m not usually bothered by them in parks when I’m eating a sandwich, but there’s something about being in an enclosed space with them that makes me feel a bit uneasy. I feel as if I’m starring in Hitchcock’s The Birds.
‘Coo, coo,’ I say, doing my best impression as I walk through them, trying not to make eye contact in case it sets them off.
I take a deep breath outside the makeshift cubicle Alexis has cobbled together. There are four old stepladders of varying heights, with brooms and shower curtains hanging off them, woven through the steps. He’s then hooked the solar powered shower to the top of the tallest ladder, and the bottom of the cubicle appears to be an old baby bath, which I’m supposed to empty outside when I’m finished. If it were not me who had to use it, I’d be slightly impressed by the ingenuity, but as I strip off my clothes, I wonder again what I’ve got myself into.
I climb into the mini bathtub and I stand behind the bright white curtain. Forget The Birds, I now feel like I’m in Psycho.
I take a deep breath, bracing my shoulders, as I pull the shower cord. The water drips out in a warmish dribble, reminiscent of the inside shower. This isn’t actually that bad; my bum barely has goosebumps on it. I’m just starting to relax when I hear the pigeons cooing loudly, followed by a bark.
‘What the –?’ I shout, desperately trying to rub the shampoo out of my eyes and hair in a race to finish quickly.
The barking gets louder and a pigeon flies into the curtain, making the brooms start to wobble.
‘Buster!’ shouts a voice.
I see the spritely springer spaniel dart around the back of the shower, yapping away as he goes.
I lunge for my towel, realising exactly whose dog it is, when a pigeon flies overhead and Buster decides to use the shower as a shortcut to get to it. Barging under a curtain and jumping over the baby bath as if he were a horse jumping a water fence, he bursts through the gap on the other side. For a second, I think that I’ve got away with it, that the shower is going to remain intact, but then I see the solar shower bag start to wobble and the next thing I know the cubicle starts to fall down around me. I instinctively crouch down, and fling my arms over my head and scream as I brace myself for impact. The ladders and brooms hit the ground noisily. I realise that I’ve escaped more or less unscathed; that is, until I open my eyes to assess the damage and see Jack standing in front of me.
‘I’m not looking,’ he says, shielding his eyes with his arm and desperately hissing at his dog to come to him.
I’m glad that I’m at least hunched up behind my knees so that Jack can’t see anything. The only trouble is, if I make a lunge for my towel, I risk exposing a boob or a buttock. Neither of which I’m too happy about.
‘Um, are you going to catch Buster anytime soon?’ I say, my teeth starting to chatter.
‘Absolutely. Come here, Buster, you’re not getting away from me that easily.’
‘What the bloody hell’s going on?’ says Rosie, running in and gasping as she sees the ladders and the tangled mess of shower curtains.
She picks up my towel, and for a moment I think she’s going to run off with it, as she would have done when we were kids, but instead she wraps me up in it.
‘Are you OK? Are you hurt?’ she asks, looking a little nervous.
‘No, I’m fine. Luckily everything fell away from me.’
‘Gotcha!’ shouts Jack as he grabs him with both hands and slips a lead on.
‘Um, sorry about that. I’ll leave you to whatever you were doing,’ he says, his cheeks colouring.
He practically runs out, dragging Buster along behind him, and I wonder what he was doing here in the first place.
‘What happened?’ asks Rosie giggling, as I sigh with relief that he’s gone.
‘I was having a shower when his bloody dog came bounding in chasing pigeons. He leaped right over the baby bath and the step ladders collapsed like dominoes.’
‘You could have been killed. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault,’ she says shaking her head.
I start rubbing myself dry and dressing before I get any colder.
‘It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t make Alexis build it to withstand attacks from springer spaniels, did you?’
‘No, but I should have perhaps made sure it was a little safer. I feel awful.’
I think Rosie is more in shock than I am. ‘I’m fine, really,’ I say, towel-drying my hair.
‘So apart from letting his dog run riot, what was Jack doing here?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I say, ‘but I’m guessing by the way that he followed Buster in, that he was looking for him, that’s all. I probably scared him more than he scared me.’
What with my giant bottom being naked and all that.
‘Well, I guess that it’s back to the drawing board with the shower. Hopefully, the plumber will at least have put the sink in tomorrow, and then we can do a good old strip wash.’
‘Now you’re even sounding like Grandma. You’ll be pulling out those funny things she used to have on those taps. The ones that went separately from the hot and cold tap to mix them.’
‘Oh my, I’d forgotten about them. You’d have one end and I’d have the other, then we’d both scream down them, “I am a mole and I live in a hole”.’
We both start to laugh at the shared memory.
‘Where did that come from anyway?’ I ask, thinking how random it sounded.
‘I think it was from an old song from the fifties that Grandma used to play.’
Rosie starts to sing it, and I laugh even more.
I honestly don’t think I’ve laughed this much in ages. I’m doing that proper, infectious bellyache stuff, not the hashtag lols that I usually pretend I’m doing to make it seem like I’m having a good time.
‘It used to be fun when we’d stay there, you know, before we hated each other,’ says Rosie as she starts to sort out the mess of tangled curtains.
‘I didn’t hate you,’ I say getting dressed under my towel. ‘You were the one who never wanted me to touch your stuff or talk to you.’
‘Didn’t I? I just remember you whining all the time.’
‘And I just remember you shouting all the time.’
‘Huh, I don’t remember that at all.’ She shrugs. ‘At least you’re not such a whiner now. I thought you would have been whinging all day long about the lack of phone. I’ve been impressed.’
‘See. I told you I could do it.’
I’m not going to tell her that I’ve already been out twice in search of the Internet.
Rosie doesn’t even attempt to resurrect the cubicle; we’ll have to take our chances with the dry shampoo in the meantime.
‘Now that I know you’re safe, I’d better get back to the sanding. The plumber’s coming first thing tomorrow.’
‘Are you sure you don’t need help? I don’t have a whole lot else to do.’
‘Why don’t you go for a walk? You could catch Alexis up?’
I stutter a laugh. He must have been gone at least an hour by now.
‘Um, no, I might just have a stroll around the farm, take some photos. Then maybe I can get them developed to send to Erica next week.’
‘That’s a nice idea. While you’re there, will you check the post?’ she asks, handing me the keys. ‘I’m waiting on some paperwork from the land registry and I don’t want it getting all damp in the box.’
She marches back off to the house and I set off, scraping my hair into a messy bun as I go.
It’s so much more enjoyable walking in shoes that keep me upright naturally, rather than mimicking walking on an ice rink. I can’t believe I didn’t think to wear my trainers before. I wonder if I could make that walk to the village in them.
Now that I’m not cursing the mud, I can appreciate the views as I walk. I’m enjoying the quietness of the surroundings when a sheep baas, scaring the living daylights out of me.
I look around to make sure no one’s watching and I hop over the wall. I position myself between two sheep and, planting a silly smile on my face, I take a selfie. I spin the camera round and sigh before remembering it’s not digital, and I wonder if I should take some more just in case.
‘You all right there?’ says a voice.
I look up and see an old man who’s presumably the farmer.
‘Oh, yes, perfectly fine,’ I say, pretending that it’s normal to be squatted down in a field next to a sheep with a camera held far out in the air. ‘I wanted to take a photo of myself with the sheep,’ I say tailing off in embarrassment.
‘I’ll take it,’ he says, marching over and grabbing the camera. ‘Say cheese,’ he says, smiling and raising his eyebrows, which are bushy like caterpillars, and it causes me to laugh.
‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you.’
‘No problem. I hear that you’re our new neighbour.’
He’s giving me the exact same look of suspicion that Gerry and Liz gave us in the shop.
‘Not so much me; that’s my sister. I’m just here temporarily.’
‘That’s a shame,’ he says with a twinkle in his eye, sounding a little bit flirtatious. ‘I live over there.’
He points across the main road at a white-painted cottage halfway up a hill.
‘If you need owt, come and see me, I’ll sort you.’ He gives me a wink and leaves me in no doubt that his other comment was flirtatious. ‘You’re lucky with the weather. Blue skies,’ he says very chuffed, despite the fact that really you’d expect it at this time of year. ‘I must be going, though, I’m bidding on a hay bayler on eBay and it’s ending in twenty minutes so I’ve gotta get back.’
‘Did you say eBay? You’ve got Internet?’ I say, scouring the landscape for telephone poles.
‘Oh aye, I’ve got broadband,’ he says in a voice as proud as mine was earlier, when I was inspecting my wallpaper stripping. ‘Downloads my videos ever so fast.’
I’m too jealous to be curious as to what type of videos he’s downloading.
‘I’ll see you around. Pop in for a brew, if you’re passing,’ he says, like he lives right off the main road and not what looks like a twenty-minute hike up a steep hill. Two minutes ago I would have politely smiled, but that was before he muttered the magic word: broadband.
‘I might just do that.’
I look as if I’ve made his day and he goes bounding off across the field.
I climb back over the fence as best I can and I reach the end of the lane. If only I’d picked up my bag, I could have totally made it to the village.
I sigh and turn on my heels, thinking I’ll head back to the farm to take photos, when I catch the mailbox out of the corner of my eye and remember what Rosie said about checking it.
I try not to look at Jack’s box and cringe at the note I put in there a couple of days ago. He didn’t mention it when I saw him this morning, but then again, me being naked meant that he didn’t really mention a lot.
I turn the key in the lock and realise that Rosie’s got quite a bit of mail, including a big brown envelope which might just be what she’s after. I pick it all up without really paying much attention, until I see a bright pink piece of paper that has a note to me on it.
DAISY,
I DIDN’T MIND RESCUING YOU ONCE – FIRST TIME IS FREE, SECOND TIME I CHARGE. JUST BE THANKFUL THAT IT WAS ME AND NOT RODNEY WHO FOUND YOU – THAT WHOLE BUM THING WOULD HAVE TURNED OUT VERY DIFFERENTLY. HAVE YOU MET HIM YET? OLD FELLOW, FLAT CAP, DROOLS A LOT AT WOMEN (AND COWS WITH GLOSSY COATS).
ANYWAY, IT’S ME WHO SHOULD BE APOLOGISING ABOUT WALKING IN ON YOU WHEN YOU WERE HANGING OUT NAKED IN YOUR BARN. BUSTER ISN’T REALLY A PERVY DOG, HE JUST HAS A THING FOR PIGEONS AND WHEN HE SAW THE BARN HE MADE A BEELINE FOR IT. I WAS COMING OVER TO THANK YOU FOR THE NOTE, AS THIS WHOLE WRITING THING (AS YOU CAN TELL BY THE MESS I’M MAKING) ISN’T ME. PLEASE KNOW THAT I DIDN’T SEE ANY OF YOU OR YOUR GIANT BUM. I KNOW I SHOULDN’T JOKE ABOUT THINGS LIKE THAT AS WOMEN CAN BE SENSITIVE ABOUT THAT STUFF, BUT YOU ACTUALLY HAVE A NORMAL-SIZED BUM (NOT THAT I’VE BEEN LOOKING, BUT FROM WHEN I GRABBED IT.) AND, YES, I KNOW I’M DIGGING THE HOLE DEEPER. SEE, PROOF THAT I’M PRETTY CRAP AT THIS WRITING THING.
I’LL PROBABLY SEE YOU AROUND.
JACK.
P.S. HAVE GOOGLED PRICE IS RIGHT AND TO PUT YOU OUT OF YOUR MISERY IT’S NOT DES O’CONNOR
I flip the paper over and see that it’s a flyer for a local barn dance, and I picture him here picking up his post not long ago, hastily scribbling it in his block capitals.
I can’t believe he’s left me hanging about The Price is Right though.
I’m smiling as I walk back down to the farm and I make sure that I hide the note in my pocket so that Rosie doesn’t see it. She reminded me far too much of Mum the other day, with her eyebrow twitching at my walk with Jack, and, no doubt, she’d be matchmaking the instant she found out about the notes. I’d much rather keep this to myself, and if she wants to direct her matchmaking attention to me, Alexis is a much better candidate; so easy on the eye.