May 9th 2024.
What kind of terrible decision did I make in my past life that brought me to this point? As I stumbled through the front door, I carefully navigated my way to the kitchen, trying my best to avoid any potential hazards. The last thing I needed was to trip over a pair of misplaced shoes, slip on a discarded bag, or step on countless Amazon parcels. Despite my best efforts, there was still one obstacle standing between me and the much-needed cup of tea - the pitch black kitchen and the faintly illuminated figure inside.
You might think this sounds like the beginning of a cheesy horror movie, but in reality, it's just a typical evening in my life. At 42 years old, I find myself living in a six-person house share. That "mysterious figure" in the kitchen is actually just my housemate, Colin. While I can't help but question his decision to fry an egg by the light of a vanilla-scented candle at 11pm, moments like these make me wonder where I went wrong.
When I was younger, I had dreams of becoming a successful film director, creating gritty, realistic dramas like Mike Leigh or Ken Loach. Little did I know that I would end up living in one of those films - think "Kes" but with rats. Instead of pursuing my Hollywood dreams, I decided to settle in Sandbach, Cheshire - a town known for being recorded in the Doomsday book and as the birthplace of "Blue Peter's" Yvette Fielding.
As rent needed to be paid, I found a job at the only major employer in the area - an airbag factory. It was meant to be a temporary stop, but three years later, I found myself still working there, daydreaming about my first feature film while moving airbag parts from one floor to the other and hoping to score a free Twix from the vending machine.
Living in a house share eventually led me to the world of stand-up comedy. I started writing down all my silly, funny, and absurd thoughts and felt the need to share them out loud. It wasn't easy breaking into the business, and it took me three months to land my first gig at The Comedy Balloon in Manchester. While my 10-minute performance was probably unremarkable to the audience, it was a life-changing moment for me.
I began pursuing stand-up comedy as a career, which meant I needed to find affordable accommodation to support my passion. So, for most of my 20s, I lived in various house shares, sometimes with just one or two friends. Looking back, those were the good times when I had a whole shelf in the fridge to myself and didn't need to use a Glade plug-in to make the rooms bearable.
In my early 30s, I briefly moved back to my parents' house in Preston, but it didn't last long. They seemed happy to have me home at first, but after a few days, I could tell I was starting to get in the way. They dropped subtle hints about me finding a place of my own, and after a small disagreement over fire alarms, I decided it was time to leave.
That's how I ended up in a six-bedroom house in Finsbury Park, paying £400pcm at the age of 42. Many of my comedian friends are in similar situations, but my friends from Preston can't seem to understand why I haven't settled down with a "proper job" and a mortgage. But living alone and dealing with my own thoughts scares me more than any communal toilet.
Sharing a house with six strangers aged between 36 and 40 is never boring. The reason I stumbled upon Colin in the dark kitchen was that no one had replaced the lightbulb that broke three months ago. Just yesterday, one of my housemates asked me to show them how to use a hammer, which was both amusing and concerning.
I don't mind the challenges of fitting my weekly groceries on half a shelf in the fridge or getting used to the less-than-ideal living conditions. This is my home, and I wouldn't trade it for anything else. Maybe one day, things will change, but for now, I'm content with my life and the unique experiences living in a house share brings.
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