Two's a Crowd

It’s 3am and a naked Irish man walks into my room… No, this isn’t a bad joke it actually happened. It’s Friday night and I have the flat, which I share with three other girls – all to myself. This is a luxury, one many a flat sharer will understand, I was able to enjoy all my annoying habits without the tuts and huffs of my fellow dwellers. Like, flicking through channels when the adverts are on - thus missing the end of whatever I was originally watching, voluntarily choosing late night repeats of Jeremy Kyle, Inspector Frost and/or Friends, openly crying at the SMA baby advert and trailing digestive crumbs over the sofa, it was a great start to the weekend. After finally finding out who Fathered Chanice-Mercedes’ dogs’ budgies cousins baby on the good old JK show, I took my tired sober self off to bed for an early night.

It was a nice dreamless sleep until my ears pricked up to the sound of my handle being turned and my door slowly opening. My eyes flew open and I was sat bolt upright, heart pounding so hard I could feel it hitting my ribs. There stood, silhouetted against my dark doorway was a very naked man followed by a very drunken Irish slur of “sorry wrong room,”
“out, get out; it’s the other side of the hall!” I shouted, pointing aimlessly in the dark towards, what I hope, was the bathroom.
I lay there eyes wide open, heart still pounding, door still open, wondering what just happened. I then listened intently as the drunken house guest stumbled downstairs knocked something over, swore gently then made his way back up the stairs, never once going to the toilet!
I furiously grabbed my phone and texted the culprit, my flat mate Lou. Except it wasn’t her I found after a half asleep reply, but the other one Sal. After one too many at the after work drinks Sal found herself a little of the Irish to play with.

I’m not one to prevent my friends from the occasional ‘how’s your father’, but when it overspills, naked, into my room I find it a cause for concern. Not that I want to be melodramatic or anything, but it could have ended so differently. Yes, he was an innocently disorientated drunk, but the next one may well know exactly what he’s doing. Until that night, I’d never felt unsafe in my flat, now I always have one ear open when I know the party girls are out.

Since the credit crunch, house share adverts have gone up by 33% (Gumtree). Moving to London can be a scary place it’s nice to be in a sociable house where you get to know others, plus living with others is much cheaper, great in this ‘current climate’ everyone keeps banging on about. Heed my word of warning; be careful when you choose your flat mates, try to make sure that you have a similar outlook on life, failing that make sure your room has a lock, I’m getting mine fitted tomorrow!