It’s been a while since I have posted on the blog about some of the more usual unusual experiences I have had lately that has left me feeling like I’m in the twilight zone, it’s not that I don’t want to share these unique experiences it’s just that with Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, LinkedIn, Tumblr, Pinterest, emails and another hundred other online jobs it’s just time it seems in the digital age is rather thin on the ground and the blog, my favourite bit has been demoted for a while…
Anyway, enough of that, what you really want to hear about is urine in a bottle.
Last year we had the wonderful pleasure of house hunting, a remarkable pastime that quite often offers the best and the worst all in one day with the added unexpected shock bonus you get occasionally as you enter a sellers domain.
Cue weird music…
A house stands alone, its occupants unknown. From the outside it appears normal, quiet and a little isolated with a weathered For Sale board at a tilt outside. A high brick wall surrounds part of the garden and facing the road is a car from yesteryear with a small sticker in the back window ‘Honk If You’re Horny’ Outside Peter and Jayne, our two house hunters slowly pull up and exit the car, little do they know that they are about to enter…the Twilight Zone.
It was our third house of the day, after the first few you start to get into the swing of things so we were particularly enjoying having a good look around, a bit like a live version of ‘Through The Key Hole’ although the last thing I expected was the door to be answered by a lady in furs and dare I say it, a Jimmy Saville lookalike. It was so surreal I dropped the house details in surprise and noticed that when I bent down he was also wearing tracksuit bottoms and trainers. I had ‘run’ written all over my face, Jayne glanced at me with the same withered look, it was too late, they had seen our faces, we must enter the abode.
If you have ever read Great Expectations by Charles Dickens and marvelled at the scene with Miss Havisham wearing her moth eaten wedding gown and keeping her rotting wedding cake in a room stuck in time then you would have been in for a treat for the first room we entered was unrecognisable as a room being cluttered and surrounded by shelves packed solid with jars full of what looked like pickling vinegar but it did indeed have something wasting away on a table in the centre of the room that resembled a wedding cake. Flies lazily flew around the structure in a loose whirlwind occasionally landing to throw up, the large ceiling high pile upon closer inspection actually turned out to be a pile of pots, pans and plates, all unwashed in what was actually the kitchen.
That was just the start.
One room contained a multitude of collections and by collections I use that term in its grandest sense as one particular collection caught my eye, a table covered with I.D. everything from bus passes to passports. I nudged Jayne, were we going to get out alive? Another room hosted an entire Victorian childhood complete with prams and assorted nursery items stacked ceiling high and topped with ceramic faced dolls, another contained memories from the 70’s it was really quite bizarre. Then we reached a bolted door in a courtyard, a courtyard in which the owners described and I kid you not as the kind of courtyard you could drive in a large truck to pick up a body and nobody would be any the wiser. The bolted door was cast open, our house owners stood behind us, the smell of a scent from many years ago called ‘Hai Karate’ wafted through my nostrils as they almost pushed us into the gloom.
It was a stark outdoor room made of brick, about the size of a typical large shed with a small crawl hole about ten foot off the floor. It was empty apart from two metal boxes on the facing wall, oh, and an axe leaning on the wall to the right. The doors shut behind us and it went rather dark whilst my sphincter started to clap and veritably started to violently toot as they opened the metal boxes only to reveal them both as empty and about body size.
‘Well, thankyou, I think we have seen enough’ I said in a rather high pitched voice. ‘Oh yes’ said Jayne in a deep voice ‘We must get back, we’ll be missed!’ she added winking in my direction. The sellers looked disappointed and took a step back from the axe they had been sneaking up to reluctantly opening the door or rather toying with the door. ‘It’s stuck’ said Jimmy and with that I virtually ripped the handle out of his hand and kicked the frame out. On the way back through the house we were show the swimming pool in which we were informed that they both delighted in stripping naked and sipping champagne in it on warm summer nights behind the ten foot walls through which now sound our sight could escape. It was in fact a small circular blow up paddling pool filled with rainwater finished off with a plastic seat in the centre. I wish I was making this up but seriously I’m not.
We finished off back in the kitchen after experiencing too many more scenes far too gruesome for this humble blog to be offered a cup of tea. A cup of tea made from the jars of vinegar that littered the kitchen shelves. We declined after learning that they were the owners perfectly safe recycled urine and there was no after taste or problem in drinking your own. Bear Grylls I’m not, even vintage urine couldn’t sway me although I have had some terrible wines that could have been mistaken for it. That, unfortunately was the only fresh water they used.
In the car a little later we sat in shock but as I drove home Jayne started to feel ill.
‘Is it me?’ I asked Jayne.
She sniffed my left shoulder. ‘Yes, I believe it is’ she replied and I started to feel ill too.
So if you were out and about that warm May night and you noticed two artists stripping down to their underwear in the middle of nowhere you now know why. I drove home in my underpants, Jayne in her bra and knickers. I don’t care what anybody thought who saw us, we had just escaped being a small article on local news ‘Little known artists disappear, who gives a toss’
We strutted through the door home removed our remaining clothes and flung them in the washer, as you have probably guessed, we didn’t put in an offer.
(I was tempted with the swimming pool though)