Bleak House
There's a house round the corner from here that makes me sad. It's a pretty little bungalow, on a nice street, with a wee patch of garden at the front. It makes me sad because it's so neglected.
I thought the garden in our rental flat was bad, but that was nothing compared to this place. There's a waist-height garden wall, and beyond that... weeds, weeds and more weeds. The weeds are level with the wall. And densely packed. They are established weeds. They could almost be classed as shrubs. There are some wild flowers growing in one patch, which are actually really pretty and if the rest of the garden wasn't a complete wilderness it would look kind of Victorian-kitchen-gardeny, but as it is it just looks neglected. The tall hedges on either side crowd in and make the front of the house dark and gloomy.
The house itself is a bit tumbledown too - the whitewash is flaking away, and the woodwork round the windows is all scabby and looks rotten. There are mouldy-looking curtains hanging haphazardly from all the windows, which never seem to be opened. They look like they would dissolve altogether in a stiff breeze mind you, so maybe it's a good thing that they're untouched.
All the other houses on the street are well looked after, and you see the inhabitants out at the weekend, mowing their lawns, or washing their cars. But this wee house looks dark and lonely, and a bit creepy - even in daylight. I always imagine some reclusive Miss Havisham-like character lurking inside, peering out at all the happy people going about their lives and cursing them for it. Every time I walk past I look for signs of life because I'm really curious to find out if the house is inhabited, and if so, by whom. Only once have I seen any indication of it being lived in - I was walking past one night and there was a faint light coming from one of the windows...
It was dark and windy, it was just me and my overactive imagination and this was the first time I'd seen any movement. You might be expecting me to say that I boldly marched up the path and chapped on the door to find out the answer to the burning question, but I didn't.
I scuttled off quick-smart, checking over my shoulder all the while to make sure I wasn't being pursued by an angry hermit.
I thought the garden in our rental flat was bad, but that was nothing compared to this place. There's a waist-height garden wall, and beyond that... weeds, weeds and more weeds. The weeds are level with the wall. And densely packed. They are established weeds. They could almost be classed as shrubs. There are some wild flowers growing in one patch, which are actually really pretty and if the rest of the garden wasn't a complete wilderness it would look kind of Victorian-kitchen-gardeny, but as it is it just looks neglected. The tall hedges on either side crowd in and make the front of the house dark and gloomy.
The house itself is a bit tumbledown too - the whitewash is flaking away, and the woodwork round the windows is all scabby and looks rotten. There are mouldy-looking curtains hanging haphazardly from all the windows, which never seem to be opened. They look like they would dissolve altogether in a stiff breeze mind you, so maybe it's a good thing that they're untouched.
All the other houses on the street are well looked after, and you see the inhabitants out at the weekend, mowing their lawns, or washing their cars. But this wee house looks dark and lonely, and a bit creepy - even in daylight. I always imagine some reclusive Miss Havisham-like character lurking inside, peering out at all the happy people going about their lives and cursing them for it. Every time I walk past I look for signs of life because I'm really curious to find out if the house is inhabited, and if so, by whom. Only once have I seen any indication of it being lived in - I was walking past one night and there was a faint light coming from one of the windows...
It was dark and windy, it was just me and my overactive imagination and this was the first time I'd seen any movement. You might be expecting me to say that I boldly marched up the path and chapped on the door to find out the answer to the burning question, but I didn't.
I scuttled off quick-smart, checking over my shoulder all the while to make sure I wasn't being pursued by an angry hermit.
Labels: Mystery, Neighbours
This entry was posted
on Thursday, April 19, 2007 at 9:19 pm.
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Well, it's quite obviously haunted. Call in Yvette Fielding. She'll sort it.
Maybe it’s a wee old person who might appreciate an offer of weeding. Appreciate or be high offended. Your call.
We have a house like that on our street. Best Mate keeps making jokes about there being hundreds of bodies hidden under the floors, and when the police discover the hideous crimes, we'll be those eejits on the news who say silly things like, "But it was so quiet... We never knew." At which point I tell her she'll feel bad if it actually happens.
That said, if I've found a safe location in which to bury bodies, I think I may have found an excellent plan of action for errant dates...
I always feel really sad when I hear those stories on the news about people who've died and not been discovered until weeks later. Partly because I wonder if it's my fate down the line!
Simple way to deal with it. Call in the house makeover show from the BBC and give the address as yours.
House and garden sorted, any dead bodies carted off to the Antiques Roadshow.
Minimum effort - maximum result...
Timbo - The Boy reckons it's squatters, but a ghost would be so much more interesting!
Queenie - That wouldn't be weeding, it would be large scale deforestation. Honestly, you've never seen weeds like these.
Hannah - If there really ARE bodies in there I'll feel awful! Plus, bodies = murderers! Eek!
Cat - No way! Your blog wouldn't be updated and we'd all be out looking for you!
Goth - My plan now is to wait till it goes up for sale, buy it, exorcise the ghosties and do it up, then make a whopping profit on it. It can't fail!
Maybe I should sell MY flat for a whopping profit and buy it and be your neighbour!
I can make new curtains!
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