It’s still raining outside, so I’m going to bite the bullet and make a run for it; to somewhere warmer and with wi-fi (and people). I shall kiss the rain as I travel. I hope some of those whom I love and miss will allow themselves to get wet.
With my estate agent’s hat on, I shall attempt to describe Gilbert Arse:
the property is conveniently located close to local amenities: Lidl for cheap booze; a 24 hour garage for overnight tobacco needs; the police station for a more comfortable bed and the railway station, for escape.
The property offers off-street parking by means of a number of derelict garages. It is clearly signposted by a notice in the car park, announcing that only clients of the now-vacated funeral directors who once occupied the building may park there: the dead.
The property benefits from a communal entrance (open to all), gained by clambering onto an old office chair outside, stepping through a window in need of some attention (it’s broken) and then onto the mezzanine level (an old desk). The broken glass around the mezzanine adds an attractive design feature.
Once inside the property, the reception room benefits from light sabres, in the form of flourescent tubes stacked against the wall. If one picks these up, swishes them around and makes a whooshing sound, one can pretend that the property is lit: it isn’t. Neither is it heated and nor does it have running water. If water could run away from this place, it would.
The main living area is accessed via a feature door (broken) from the reception area. Upon entering the living space, it is accepted practice to shout ahead of oneself to ensure no-one is visiting.
Security is provided by a large plank of wood, which can be wedged under the handle of the door between reception and living rooms, preventing it from being opened (kicked in).
The main living space benefits from a selection of drinks (empy bottles, now drained), a walk-in wardrobe (discarded clothes), buffet (decaying food), a library (mouldy books) and central heating (in need of atention as it’s old bonfires).
Beyond the living area and via another feature (broken) door is the master bedroom. This is en-suite with a broken shower, used only to secure ropes attached to the door handle: this is the built-in security.
The toilet is in a seperate room (thank fuck) and is in need of attention (it’s full).
Air conditioning is provided by the broken skylights.
Available immediately; viewing inadvisable.