Sunday, August 14, 2011

I am in supervision with a friend and writer, C, in the front room of my house in which I consult.  The blinds are drawn but there is a gap at the bottom through which I can see out onto the veranda. 
The doorbell rings.  ‘I’ll ignore that,’ I say to my supervisee.  We are discussing her writing.  The doorbell is a distraction but I imagine the person who has rung it will move on soon, but he rings again.  I look out through the crack under the blind on the window and can see a tradesmen of sorts, in casual clothes.  He talks on a telephone.  His utility truck is in the driveway.  I cannot hear what he is saying only the low drone of his voice which sounds agitated.  I worry that he can see me and slide down onto the floor.  My supervisee looks perplexed but given she happens to be a friend I think she will understand.  

Eventually the man leaves.  I watch him get into his car and his assistant, a woman, who appears seemingly from nowhere uses a special lift up tray to get into her seat on the passenger side.
Somehow I manage to finish the session at the end of which my supervisee asks me about my availability.  She can only come on a Tuesday at 8.45 in the morning.  Am I free then?  I realise I am not.  I share a writing group at this time.  It seems to cement my supervisee’s decision to take up another proposition that has been put to her, namely to teach creative writing at the university.
I go out into the hallway and run into a man, another tradesmen, who seems to be working on the wires near the front.
‘What a you doing here?  Who authorised this?’
I am furious and tell the man to get out.  He is reluctant to move but I force him to pack up his bags and move out through the back door. 
As I go into the kitchen in anticipation of him an elderly couple come through the sliding door.  Each carries a heavy box loaded with household things.
‘Who are you?’ I ask, ‘and what are you doing here?’
The couple look perplexed, furtive.  I tell them to leave as well, and begin to bolt the door so that no other intruders can get inside.
I am furious and troubled.  I have been away from home and work for several days until now and I wonder whether something has gone on in my absence.  Have some people tried to take over our house? 
I try the telephone to ring my husband but can’t get through.  I’m in a panic.  They cannot simply take possession of someone else’s house.  Or can they?

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