People do a lot of hiding these days. Behind their screens or slipping past you in the street without acknowledgement. It happens more and more, I find. I had a leak into my kitchen from upstairs a few weeks ago. I got the plumber to come and stop it. I called the landlord from upstairs. I said I’d send him the invoice. It was his dish-washer that disrupted. I’m getting my kitchen ceiling redecorated. It was ruined. That’s another invoice for upstairs. No response to my email; no response to my Whatsapp. I think the term is ghosted, or is that just for romance. I got the firm that looks after the building onto him. Still no peek from him. He’s a hider. He’s hiding the £700 he owes me.

I am a hider too every couple of weeks when my cleaner comes and I go next door to Tom’s for half an hour when I come home too early. Obviously, I don’t want her cleaning round my feet while I’m sitting around drinking tea. When my cleaner leaves my flat I hide behind Tom’s window. There is an angle she can see into Tom’s kitchen where I am also drinking tea. I don’t want her seeing me avoiding her. I’m a hider too. But my hiding isn’t costing anyone £700.

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