A Nice Quiet Life. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

This is Ciane’s renovacy.
The link to the story and the download is here:
https://2sim3.wordpress.com/other/container/ What did I think of his so-called home?
I know that policeman had reassured me I didn’t have to be afraid of Mr Paint Sample, but he hadn’t told me that the man was clearly insane! I tried to find something vaguely polite and non-committal to say. “Is that Briar Rose?” I asked, gesturing at the painting on the wall. If he’d done that, he did have one unexpected talent.
“And when’s she joining you?”
I had noticed the (unmade) double bed. And my heart did sink at the thought of another one of them living above me. The portrait was clearly of someone with a strong romantic side. Not like sensible, practical me at all. “Oh no. This is Briar Rose,” he said, picking up his guitar. “That’s – let’s just say that’s some lady who inspired me. Someone with poetry in her soul.”
Hmmph.
“Well, I better go,” I said, trying to beat a hasty retreat. “I’m – um – expecting an important email that I have to answer.” “But you haven’t told me what you think of my place yet.”
Bother. He’d noticed. And he was doing that irritating fetching grin of his again. And he had a romantic painting of a woman with poetry in her soul on his wall (Rachel, you’re the sensible one, said my family inside my head. But I hadn’t wanted to be the sensible one). Too many things all at once. “Well, if you like sleeping in a toilet, then I guess it’s okay,” I said. And then I really did leave as the grin faded from his face. The hydrangeas died. I knew they would. I was going to have to get rid of them, and that would mean heavy digging, and in this heat too. And I didn’t reckon much to the Assorted Messy Plumbing that had taken their place either. I was going to have to plant something else there.
Something fast growing. Preferably something that would also eat away at his rusty container and make it fall apart. If only there was such a plant.
Things were not good between us. I didn’t want him there, and he didn’t like me either. Okay, maybe I was a bit forthright about his container, but it was true! I couldn’t see how things were ever going to improve either. A burglar! When Mr Paint Sample had moved in upstairs, I’d taken to locking my bedroom door as well as the front door – at first because I thought he might be a threat, and later because he was clearly insane. Had I forgotten to lock the front door last night? Quick, where was my mobile?
"We're on our way," said a reassuring voice at the other end. Then I heard the sound of running footsteps, and Paint Sample’s voice challenging the burglar. I risked unlocking the door and peeking through, just in time to see him (half-naked as usual) hurl himself upon the burglar. Looked like he was a pretty mean fighter. But I still hastily shut and locked the door again. And hoped that my lovely little home wouldn’t get trashed. Then I heard the sounds of the burglar running off into the night. And Paint Sample’s voice.
“Lady, are you okay in there?” I finally felt safe enough to come out of my room – especially as I could hear the squad car arriving as well. The policeman made straight for Paint Sample – they seemed to know each other quite well – and actually (!) I didn’t mind. It was quite nice not having to cope with everything on my own.
I hadn’t forgotten to lock the door – but the policeman thought that the lock had been damaged in transit, and so the burglar had been able to pick the lock easily. I’d need a new one, asap. “Thank you,” I said, a little awkwardly, when the policeman had gone in search of a locksmith, saying he’d knock Carlo up, Carlo owed him one, and any friend of Blue’s was a friend of his.
“No problem,” he said, grinning at me as if he knew just how awkward I was finding this.
“Cliff’s on with your new lock. And I’ll sit outside until he comes. You just go back to bed, lady. Go get the beauty sleep that, hey, you like don’t really need anyway.”
Was that a compliment? I beat a hasty and embarrassed retreat to my bedroom as he left through the front door. Yes, this is Paint Sample’s idea of a garden. But he watered mine (and I was a bit short with him) so I figured I’d return the compliment. I do feel a bit guilty about how much I’ve misjudged him.
I could invite him round for a meal to say thank you for coming to my rescue the other night, I guess. I mean, he can’t cook up there, so he might like some home-made food. Salad maybe – nothing too fancy – but with my own vegetables. “I wanted to thank you for coming to my rescue the other night. And to say I’m sorry I was so rude about your place.” This time round, his grin seemed kind rather than irritating.
“Hey, Lady, I think you, like, might have had a point. In fact I’m, like, planning to do something about it. Only problem is – might be a bit noisy for a couple of days?” He did end on a very hesitant note. I didn’t see how he could improve his container and not make a noise.
“Tell you what, let me know when the noisy bits are going to happen, and I’ll find somewhere to go out to, something to do.”
“That would be real kind of you. Lady, what do you like doing?” He was easy company, old Paint Sample. I found myself telling him about the fishing, how much I liked chess – and he asked me, did I know about the chess club at the gym? which I didn’t, and said so.
“Gym – that was my two older sisters. Being sporty was their thing.” “You the youngest of three then?”
“No – the middle of five sisters. Twins above me, twins below me. Sporty above, beautiful below, and plain, boring, sensible me in the middle.”
I couldn’t keep some of the bitterness out of my voice, and regretted giving that much away. But he just looked at me with sympathy and said, “Families, huh? Like, man, I just could not wait to get away from mine.”

A Nice Quiet Life. Chapter 4

Chapter 4
This is Ciane’s renovacy.
The link to the story and the download is here:
https://2sim3.wordpress.com/other/container/ Pretty cool, huh? That’s my new home – me and my sweet Briar Rose. Doors and windows ready fitted – Marcello knew a guy who knew a guy – you get my drift?
I mean, like, can you believe it man, this was going to be thrown away! Just because the railway had sprung for a proper office instead. I got it free, as long as I paid for it to be moved. Doors and windows ready fitted…
Wanna see inside my little palace? The guys at the freight yard gave me the plumbing for nothing. Well, I sang them a few songs in their lunch break. Me and Briar Rose, we could say we got it for a song, couldn’t we?
Bed, I had to pay for. Shop-soiled, though, so I got it real cheap. Reduced even further if I promised not to sing outside their shop!
Yeah, the walls are, like, a bit dreary. Watch this though! See! I’m not just a singer, you know. Art, I’m good at. Like, my art degree was the first rift between me and the rest of my family. And when I say rift – man, think Grand Canyon. Think Great Rift Valley. They so did not dig what I was doing. Thought I should go into the family business, like the rest of them. Okay, maybe my palace does need a kitchen. Some time. I guess if I try and cook outside, under the stars, little miss Don’t Do That will make a fuss, and get me kicked off before the paperwork’s even got the ink on it, never mind dry. So I’ll just have to eat out for a while. Maybe if I check out the junkyard, I might find something for my kitchen. And until the ink’s on the paperwork, Marcello said I’d better keep a low profile. So I’m playing in the out-of-the-way places, which doesn’t, like, pay as well…
There’s always some dude wanting to read. Man, these reading types so do not appreciate good music. I’m lucky if they give me anything except dirty looks. This picture – little miss Don’t Do That inspired me. I can’t help feeling that there’s someone else behind that rule-keeping façade of hers. Someone with a bit of romance in their soul.
I mean, she’s like seriously weird. Have you noticed she only ever wears grey? Don’t know what her house is like inside because she’s put blinds up at all the windows, but when I’m done here, I’ll show her my place and maybe she’ll open up a bit. “And what do you think you are doing?”
Man, she’s so uptight - and so dumb. What does it look like I was doing? Stealing things? But, hey, make ̛em smile and you’ve won them over.
“Lady, I was passing, and this poor plant cried out to me that it was just dyin’ of thirst. So I stepped over to answer its plea.”
“Oh.” That was one non-committal sound. No smile though, and it didn’t take long for her to be back on form.
“Well, I can do that for myself. Thank you very much and goodbye.”
And, like, that thank you didn’t mean thank you. More like, get lost, mister. I can take a hint. I left her to it. And it was one hot day to be lugging all those cans of water round. Marcello tipped me the wink that it’s like, safe, to play in the town square again. All my paperwork’s processed and I am one legal dude. His highness the mayor ain’t got nothing on me now. But I better make sure I pay my part of the ground rent, or little miss Don’t Do That will have me hustled out of there faster than I can riff. So I made sure she saw me paying my part of the rent – I waited until she came out to tidy up the papers. Man, she tidies for England, she does. It’s like her world just has to be so ordered. But it gave me a chance to speak to her all casual-like, invite her up to see my palace now I’d got it all decorated and so on. I could tell she was curious. And I knew she’d been asking around if I was safe to live near – Marcello said she quizzed him.
He told her I was a lousy guitarist (so not true!) but one of the good guys. “There you are. What do you think of Briar Rose’s and my little place? Cool, isn’t it?”

A Nice Quiet Life. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

This is Ciane’s renovacy.
The link to the story and the download is here:
https://2sim3.wordpress.com/other/container/
The digging was a bit messy but actually (as Miss-Town-Hall-Work-Experience would have said), I’m really enjoying the gardening. It’s fun watching things grow, and they taste so good. I can hardly wait to get out here once I’m up and dressed. I think I’ll plant some fruit trees too. I went to pick up the paper next – and as I straightened up I saw, behind the hydrangeas, a tent! On my field! And a pretty scruffy tent at that. And I knew camping was forbidden here. I read that contract end to side! And who came crawling out of it, half asleep and half naked, after I banged on the canvas and shouted? Him! Mr Hippie Guitar himself. “And just what do you think you are doing on my site? There’s no camping allowed here, you know. You can just go and pitch your horrible tent somewhere else. At once!” “Hey, lady, chill! I’m not camping. I’m not camping. I’m waiting for my container to arrive. Should be here later today, or tomorrow morning.” “Your what?”
“Container.” Now he was wide awake and grinning. “Like, large metal box about to become my home? Complete with official address, so me and Briar Rose can be happy here together. Name’s Blue, by the way. Ocean Blue.” He was moving in here? With someone else as well? Another hippie by the sound of it – Ocean Blue and Briar Rose indeed! No-one was christened that – not outside a fairy tale, anyway. This was dreadful! I stormed back into my sanctuary and locked the door behind me. I’d have to get some blinds to cover that door as well, and I’d lose my lovely view. The first thing I did was to log on and pull up the lease details for the site. They confirmed my worst fears. No, he couldn’t camp here, but yes, he could put a container up…I didn’t like what I was reading at all. Next thing was to go shopping for some blinds. Right now! I went for white. It gave me more privacy, went with the lovely décor, but I missed my view. In the end, I decided to go out. Fishing first, I thought – that was always so soothing. Chess just wasn’t working for me today. I couldn’t believe what I saw when I got back! That Tent was still there for one thing. But there were workmen. And a concrete mixer. And giant iron girders that looked like they could hold up a skyscraper. Or a shipping container. I feared the worst. And I was right to do so. Round the back of my container – my home! – I found some dug up and trampled earth. Funny: I was sure I’d had hydrangea bushes growing there this morning. And there was some rusty looking pipework that hadn’t been there this morning either. Mr so-called Ocean Blue (sounds like a paint sample) spotted my less-than-happy face.
“Hey, lady, they had to move them. To get at the plumbing. For the um…er… you know? But I made them replant them here.”
Yes, and I was pretty sure they’d die. Wrong time of year, not enough watering in – they looked sorry for themselves already. “The, like, container arrives tomorrow.”
Oh. Did it?
“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”
Oh. Was he? I wasn’t.

A Nice Quiet Life. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Hey man, like all I want is a nice quiet life. And this hidden place in the woods – it suits me down to the ground. Like, literally. I can let the music make me fly, like a seagull over the ocean. And sleeping next to the ground – like, man, it irons out the kinks in your soul. Food? Hey, I can catch it, dig it up, pick it off the trees. And I play for people to hear, with a jar in front of me. That takes care of the extras that don’t grow on trees.
You can see where I sleep, but what about the um…er…?
That cool cat lady who owns this field, she let me build a composting toilet. So my um…er…goes back into that ground and makes it, like, richer man. It’s all part of the great circle of life. I do a few odd jobs for her now and then. Like I built this really cool castle for her cats out of scrap timber. Man, those cats loved it. They were, like, I’m the king of the castle here. And I play, like I said. I make people happy. Well most, anyway. Like there’s normally someone reading who’d rather I wasn’t there. But most people – they’re cool with it. A little music brightens their day. And I’m good. Better still on my sweet new guitar. Briar Rose, I call her – the only lady friend I need. I even changed my look just for her. And man, after being here for a couple of years now, I know, like everyone in this town. And they all know me. That’s the Romanos for instance – little Orlando wants to be an astronaut when he grows up. I tell Paola, let him dream big. Even Marcello Stefani – the original cool cop – he likes my music too. And he warns me if the Mayor’s around. Now there’s someone who doesn’t like to hear my lovely Briar Rose singing her little heart out. But hey, I figure every town needs its minstrel. And that’s me. “Come and meet me at my grandmother’s,” Marcello mutters as he passes me in the square. “Tonight, after I’ve been to football.”
Like it’s some cloak-and-dagger thing. But I go anyway. Hey, he’s my friend. And his grandmother makes a mean bolognaise. But she’s away. This is like weird, man. And so’s Marcello. He’s all mutter, mutter, like he’s a spy.
“I told the guys I was just swinging by her place to check it out, and I’d join them for a drink in a moment. Listen, Blue, you’re in trouble, or will be pretty soon.” “Me? But like, man, what have I done wrong?”
“Nothing. Or I’d have busted you for it, friend or no friend. It’s the Mayor. He’s decided you’re a blot on the landscape and you have to go. They’re turning you out of that field next week – he dug up some old by-law. You’ll get the letter tomorrow.” “And you can’t be homeless and busk. I’d definitely have to bust you for that. And I guess I’ve got used to your caterwauling round the streets. So listen – I have a plan. Only you never heard it from me. Capisci?”
Si, ho capito. And I listened. I didn’t want me and my lovely Briar Rose homeless.