No, not the 1927 Hitchcock film (which I haven’t seen), or the many remakes (one of which I think I might have seen), nor even the original novel by, it says on t’internet, Mrs. Belloc Lowndes (which I’d guess nobody alive today has read). No, this is the real thing.
My friend called me last week in desperation. Could I put up her son for a while? He’d been thrown out on the street at zero notice, and had nowhere, but nowhere, to stay. I’m obviously not going into the background to how this came about, except to say that it was the fault of a very nasty person.
I’m almost ashamed to say that I hummed and hawed for a good five minutes before replying ‘yes, of course.’ There had to be negotiations about timescales, because my existing commitments meant there was a three day gap which he would have to fill in as best he could (which he managed); but I ended up welcoming him (on a strictly time-limited basis, three weeks-ish) last Tuesday.
Well, it’s working out quite well! It’s early days, but we’ve laid down some ground rules, which are evolving and will be conformed to: the main one being that I’m In Charge around here. Fortunately, we get on pretty well, and he’s a nice, sensible man who is, if anything, over-solicitous. Let’s see how it goes. I’ve made it clear that I need to know that he’s actively seeking alternatives, and I’m sure that’s happening.
He’s just got back from the pub as I write…! He has a cold, apparently, so I’ve told him not to get too close…!