Home, sweet lodging house!
It has taken two weeks, but I finally feel comfortable that I have not made a mistake inviting my young lodger to stay in my house. Crunch came one night when, as I went to bed, I found myself picking up car keys and a couple of other items to hide them in my room. I was laying in bed unable to sleep so i got up, woke him up- he'd been sleeping on the sofa downstairs and told him that it was bloody obvious there were things he had been keeping from me and as a result I found myself filling in the gaps with all sorts of unpleasant potentials. That conversation ended amicably with him deciding it would be best for him to find his own place in Consett where he was heading when I met him. It was also obvious that he was not (just) getting over drug use, but that he is actually profoundly depressed. It is ironic that my friend who is THE artful dodger had suggested that the lad signed on and played the mental illness card. I of course dismissed this course of action but it is clear th...