Its July 2021, and we think we’re out of the woods with COVID. So what’s better than getting an old friend to move in…?
After an imprisonment of isolation and the closest form of human contact being a cardboard cut-out of Arnold Schwarzenegger or a poker night with a plush Yoshi, it was time to bounce back and put zoom quizzes to bed once and for all.
To clarify, I sound like I was hard-pressed during COVID. Like many others, I was locked up and told to keep a towel over my head in case the virus needed another sacrifice. But I won’t get into the nitty-gritty or detail the shenanigans; that’s maybe for another time. But I spent lockdown in a three-bedroom house by myself, so I was luckier than most.
Also, for the sake of ambiguity, I’m going to mix up the names of those involved. But for my own amusement, I’m going to refer to them by the names I think they look like. I can’t be the only one who thinks about this. But then again, I can be rather juvenile.
So, when restrictions were lifted and people were able to cross the invisible barrier to neighboring counties and drive to castles to check their eyesight, I leapt at the chance of a meetup. I cast my net far and wide, lit the beacons, and planted a flag firmly in the ground with the full intention of rendezvousing with friends old and new. Finally uniting and assembling like student budget Avengers, ready to tackle the next impending yet deliciously hoppy adventure.
I was Mark Watney, Tom Hanks, and Sandra Bullock all in one, reaching out to mission control and requesting assistance, and from that net, two glorious responses emerged, and so a plan was formed.
In no time, we were off on the obligatory trip to town and after re-discovering how to talk to people, the difference between listening and starring, and witnessing Tarquin get into an inebriated discussion around something provocative, we decided to retreat. However, after a pep talk worthy of The Mighty Ducks and with our spirits high, we re-grouped, restocked with supplies and kebabs and strategically scampered home. Within minutes of arriving home and directly after opening a fresh beer, Tarquin threw in the towel and retreated to bed via the toilet. Leaving just me and… let’s call him… Burty aka The Tree.
On a sidenote, why does there always seem to be that one friend in every group who tries to take the night further? Stretching it out and pushing the limits with an Augustus Gloop approach where more is better. The ‘Stiffler’, ‘Gary King’ rogue night-out vigilante type. I really do hope it’s not just guys who have this issue.
Anyway, Burty and I had previously been flat mates in a very, very modest two-bedroom flat. I think they called it a maisonette for some reason but in a nutshell, it had been a very tight squeeze. It was so small, that you could hear every itch, breath, exhale or thought through the walls. Additionally, the shower water pressure was the equivalent of holding a crying baby over your head in a bath. Nonetheless, everything had ended amicably; we’d had our FRIENDS moment of saying our farewells, and we had gone our separate ways into the sunset.
That’s all, folks!
However, after flirting and going beyond teasing with the prospect of a sequel, Burty pulled the plug at the very last minute and a mighty tantrum ensued where I threw all my toys out the pram and blocked Burty. For the record I was upset, which I’m not saying justifies it, but it somewhat rationalizes it. But this was really the first time we’d been alone together since and without the buffer of Tarquin. Now, it was just two bashful and somewhat embarrassed boys unable to make eye contact or summon the will to confront the elephant or, overgrown tree in the room.
At first, it was filled with awkward elevator conversations and general pleasantries where silences were filled with long, stretched out sips of beer. We then talked and compared all those hobbies we got into during lockdown; You know the ones I’m talking about… But after a few drinks and reminiscing, we were back like nothing had changed and no time had passed.
However, I was yet to learn that this was the beginning; the cogs were turning, the stars had aligned, and my path was decided.
Hours passed and with our tummies full of beer, the conversation took a deeper, more profound turn (as it usually does around 3 a.m.) and towards the prospects of the future. Burty had tip-toed around the subject all night and was understandably cautious. However, with the help of some liquid courage and an abysmal rendition of Eye of the Tiger, Burty once again pitched a sequel or re-boot of us living together.
Although shy and sheepish at first, the pitch was strong. Filled with nostalgic Easter eggs, the luring cringe of hindsight, laughs, opportunities and what-ifs. We jested at our fool-hearty younger selves with questionable lifestyle choices. After all, we were men in our thirties and gone were the days of student cooking and grid-locked cleaning negotiations. Now was the time for diplomacy, reason, and common sense. As if during our apartness we had grown to be our own protagonists and had returned home wiser and with a just sense of smugness over the past.
Such arrogance…
However, a preliminary accord was struck under the banner of ‘A friend in need, a friend indeed’ and within weeks the I’s were dotted, the T’s were crossed and Burty was on his way with his feline companion. Admittedly, as the day grew closer, I became ignorantly more anxious about the impending prospect.
It wasn’t a case of room, and it wasn’t a case of living with someone new. But although the house had become a very comfortable prison in the prior years, I had grown attached and hermitted more than I realized to my surroundings. I was protective, and some would say compulsive about the upkeep. But to me, the house was precious, a nest, a lifeline and security that needed to be protected and with PTSD from years of renting and student accommodation, I feared for the worst and felt a disturbance in the natural order was afoot.
It sounds quite selfish to a degree; I can’t quite decide.
Nevertheless, the day arrived: 27th September 2021, 16:56:38 and it was time to launch.
This finally provides somewhat of a waffled segway to the purpose of the blog. The Scurvy Diaries offers an insight or a warning to anyone looking to move in with a friend. Heed this blog! From the petty and downright tedious, face palms and woes, to the strange, nonsensical, and bizarre.
Not for the faint hearted of cringe and nothing like what FRIENDS, NEW GIRL or HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER told us how it would be.
Just two guys in their thirties trying to save money and live together whilst being a little weird…
Oh, and a cat.
