ATPIELI 3: Holders Hill Road NW4
Moved round the corner to a beautiful flat on the corner of Holders Hill Road and the A1. That’s the road where people get off the M1 and I didn’t sleep for two years because you could always hear cars screeching to a halt at the traffic lights all night. And every third screech or so, you’d hear a crash. Relaxing, it wasn’t. But it was clean and well-kept, even if G, my landlady was a little too perfect for me. My brother couldn’t stay because the neighbours might talk, and we were on completely different timescales; when I got up she’d gone to work at the crack of dawn, and when I got home she was already in bed. Good arrangement. She was one of those people who have two distinct looks; so it was quilted dressing gown – who still wore those in the early nineties? – taped together NHS glasses, neat (as in full-strength, rather than tidy) spot-cover and no conversation when it was the two of us. If someone was coming round, she went into her bedroom and did a WonderWoman act, and came out looking groomed, perfect and pretty and made charming small talk. I think we fell out, but I have no idea why.