Aunt Elsie’s sugar bowl and Pinter’s pauses

or

What do you do when the colonialists go home?

Pinter is good at pauses. There are quite few here. Long, Pinter-like.

Pauses.

Suppose you had a home, a house, say. And, after a while, there’s someone in the spare room. You hear them occasionally brushing their teeth, or having a shower. Or watching telly, making some toast. Tea and toast.?

“How did they get here?” you say to yourself …

Did I invite them?

Maybe it’s an old friend, someone from way back. “Come on a visit, the welcome mat is out.”?

They come, and after a week you ask, “Were you planning on moving on?” And they say, “Not yet, no.”

Or maybe they asked.

“It’s cold where we are and I can’t afford the rent and have no where else to go. Could I come in and warm myself by your fire?” “Yes.” After a week you ask, “Were you planning on moving on?” And they say, “No. Not yet.”

Or maybe they broke in.

They jemmy the door, or break a window, and, when you go to see who’s in the shower and ask where they came from, they turn and wipe the soap out of their eyes and say, “I broke in.”?

After a week you ask, “Were you planning on moving on?” And they say, “No. I like it here.”

So, what do you do?

Well, you can wait for them to leave. Or you can physically eject them. Or you can go to court and get an order telling them to leave, and then get a big burly bailiff to chuck them out.

What if they won’t go?

Then, what sometimes works is if you tell them:

“You are a master in another man’s country. It is time that you left and went home.” Sometimes.

Then, they may go. And after that?

There are some people who come invited and bring chattels: a box of chocolates or a bottle of Pinot-Grigio. There are even some who, if they stay a while, will pop out to get some fresh milk for you, order a newspaper to be delivered, that you quite like, and stump up the subscription to Netflix. It’s nice, is Netflix. Not so nice when the person you’re watching it with has their hand on the remote and breaks wind now and again from eating your peanuts.

When they finally go, you may perhaps be sorry to see them go and hesitatingly call after them, “Do write!” Or even, “Call in again, if you’re … passing.”

If you go back, then, to the fridge, it could be there are no eggs left. The bottle of Pinot is empty. No soft cheese, only hard cheese. The floor’s grubby; guests never think to lift a mop.

So, what do you do about it?

Well, you can go to Asda and buy more soft cheese, and a bottle of plonk and half a dozen large eggs. Forget about your ungracious and ungrateful guest. Maybe repair the window they came in by. Thinks … and rue the fact that you never did get round to demanding rent from your lodger.

And then you find they took Aunt Elsie’s silver sugar bowl. It was nice that sugar bowl. Little Queen Anne legs on it, and a matching spoon. Hallmarked too. Not worth much, but a??couple of bob, anyway.

But, you need to pay the bill at Asda, so there’s work to be done, a floor to be mopped and a cauliflower cheese for tonight’s dinner, and it all needs paying for so, let’s get on with our work. Spit, spot, best foot forward!

Wait a minute. That lodger. Maybe they could pay you – then you wouldn’t need to do any work, not for a while. Get them to pay for the cheese and the cauliflower and the Pinot. They blood drank it.?

Wonder what’s on telly.?

Oh.?

They cancelled the Netflix. Hm. Could always read a book, I suppose.?

Should I sue him? Claim … loss of honour. And …??… vacant possession. Could get a couple of thou for that. And maybe get Aunt Elsie’s sugar bowl back. Worth a bob or two, that.

So, what to do?

Mop the floor?

Try and get the sugar bowl back?

Try and work hard enough to afford your own Netflix?

Put it all down to a twist of fate and get on with life?

Reinforce the lock on the window?

Hm, perhaps … even … keep a watch out for them. So you can spit at them – “putt!” – if you ever meet them again, like.

Who the?hell?did they think they were?!!

Mind you, I did like the Netflix. I like Kevin Spacey, even if no one else does.

And the Pinot …. well, the Pinot wasn’t that great. Cheese was nearly mouldy.

I don’t know what to do. Should I ask a lawyer? I’ll ask a lawyer.

I know! I’ll ask a dozen lawyers, then I’ll be sure to get the right answer.

I asked a dozen lawyers. I asked a dozen clergymen. I asked a dozen philosophers and I asked a dozen friends.?

Some said “Mop the floor and forget it.”?

Some said “Mop the floor with pride and hold your head high! It is your floor and you will mop it yourself! Don’t need no help from nobody.”

“Does that mean I need help or don’t need help?”

“NO HELP! You helpless?!”?

…

…

“No, course not.”

Some said “Call a cleaning company and send the lodger the bill.”?

Some said, “I know where they are now. I’ll go around for you and let their tyres down,” with a Muttley snigger.

Some said, “I’ll buy you a new sugar bowl.” I said, “But it was Aunt Elsie’s.” And they said “I know, but I can’t get you Aunt Elsie’s. Won’t this do?”

The lodger. He should go to prison for doing that. But it would take ages. To get him into prison, I mean. And it would break me and I would have no life left and I would be bitter for the rest of my days.

Some said, “Let me hug you. Fill you with warmth, and make some tea and we’ll watch BBC, and forget Netflix. You’re with friends and they matter much more than your revenge. If you take your revenge on the lodger, perhaps you will lose the few friends you have left.”

So I kept the friends. And I watched BBC.

One day, there was a knock at the door.?

It was the lodger.

He had Aunt Elsie’s sugar bowl in his hand.

Lodgers don’t always come back with the sugar bowl, though.