In my house

I am having one of those periods where I feel constantly sexed. Last night ended and started with imagining sex with Denise, the details of which I text to her. My female friends are curvily, sexually, physically, desirable. Spring, I suppose.

It's 9.45. I'm in the kitchen looking out over the backs of the next street, and finding the sight of the men knocking down someone's back yard wall fascinating. A young woman is standing there in her dressing gown, smoking, watching them. I wonder if she's flirting with them, as there's no need for her to watch. It's a racket, with hammers and drills, but I like it. The everyday is more interesting than anything else.

There's a knock at the front door. Fuck. A debt collector? I hide my glass of wine under the sink. Don't let them in. They can't come in without being invited, otherwise it's trespass.

It's one of my neighbours with a carrier bag full of those Aero bubbly dessert pot things. She's offering them to me as they're not Halal so her family can't eat them. I close the door with a skippety-skip of cross-cultural neighbourly feeling.

It's a sunny morning and I've just been round the house photographing all the rooms, as I need to find new lodgers. The flattering wash of the camera smooths out some imperfections and the grotty woodchip wallpaper in the kitchen, but overall I'm surprised at how attractive the house looks. Victorian, stripped but patinad wood; ordered, tidy and calm.

Within two hours of putting the ad up I'm contacted by a girl from Beijing who's moving here in August to start a postgraduate degree. I have a look at her profile, as the site I'm using for this gives you the opportunity to do a bit of a bio and upload some photos. She's pretty, sitting next to some mountain or other in a black miniskirt, black tights, and a red sweatshirt. I'm not specifiying this in the advert, but I don't want all men in the house. A woman betters a house, like a cat.

This isn't my house, but it's the best bit of sexist disco-funk I've ever heard. I've got the album. I was 21 when this came out, and from this record I derive my conviction that women should be strong confident and independent, and appreciated for things beyond her appearance. I like the one on the bed at 0.51.

Mary Jane Girls - In My House (1985)

She's definitely flirting. She's still outside in her dressing gown, laughing , stroking her hair behind her ear.