[ WP ] The running faucet


 What am I looking for in a place to live? I don ’ t know. Ideally it would be like the house I grew up in. But my memories of that are pretty distorted, I probably could n't explain it in any detail. 
 For example if you asked me to tell you any specific facts about my bathroom in that house; I'd only be able to tell you three things for sure. 
 
 One. There was damp that would rise that caused a cool pattern to appear on the wallpaper beside the door in my room. The whole wall was pulled down at one point to try and fix it. When I turned up with breathing problems a few months later, it was quickly tracked back to my wall which was damp again. 
 
 Two. Well, I grew up in that house. Forget about two. 
 
 Three. The taps would whistle. 
 
 A summers evening I was on top of my bed, leaning out of the window the way no kid should, when I heard a sort of quick double whistle; like a cross between a person whistling and a bird call. I whistled in reply as close as I could to the original sound. The whistle happened again, this time the second one longer. I copied it again. 
 
 A third whistle came and I replied happily. I had never seen Deliverance at this point, but imagine that between me and this bird whistle I had found. 
 
 After five or so minutes my mum comes in and asks what the hell I'm doing. I tell her I'm communicating with birds, and tell her to come listen. 
 
 She listens for a few seconds and bursts into laughter, doubling over. My dad comes up to see what was going on and she struggles to explain and just points to me. I explain there is a bird outside I'm whistling at which is replying, and urge him to listen. He does and also begins laughing, but not to the same degree my mum is. 
 
 They both calm down, and I'm very confused. I think it is a really cool thing I have found, cross species communication; this could be important! My mum explains to me that this is just a sound the taps in the bathroom make when they are on full blast, and if I really do n't know that I really need to take more baths. 
 
 I am grumpy for a while but I move on. 
 
 The best part of two decade later I'm out on my own in Glasgow, looking for a reasonable flat, apartment or house to move in to. I'm not looking for somewhere perfect; I look around all the major websites, I view a few and dozens more do n't get back to me. I walk around letting agencies, looking for a place to leave my stuff while I go out and earn money so I can get more stuff. 
 
 I view a place beside an underground station. It is dark, smells of damp and a is cramped. It has traditional Glasgow stupidly high roofs and worryingly insecure doors. It reminds me of my old room when I wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. I hear a door slam downstairs and muffled shouting separated from us by a few closed doors and a floor. I hold my breath and await the sound of someone stomping up the stairs; but the estate agent apologises interrupting the expectation. 
 
 I see another place at on the top floor of a Glasgow tenement. There is a child ’ s trike, and several megablocks in various states of destruction outside the flat on the landing. I'm shown in and the girl apologises for toys outside her door. She explains that across the hall is a single mother who recently divorced the father, and now is struggling on her own; to both control the kid, and to make ends meet. She says she invites her over for a meal a few times a week; but the woman usually does n't take her up on it. I look around the flat, but have already decided it makes me uncomfortable, so politely leave. 
 
 I find recently empty house on the very edge of my price range. It is empty; it feels cold and lifeless; but it is outside the main city in Bishopbriggs, one of the small town the city swallowed up over the years. I glance at the unread post, bills are marked to the'Executors of' and there is a letter from a solicitor. In the kitchen I find a mug decorated by a child pushed behind a cabinet; the girl showing me the house thanks me with sad eyes and with great care puts the mug in their bag. I leave them to their empty house and memories. 
 
 A small town outside Glasgow, Lennoxtown, there is a house that is small, but warm. I should n't go by my first feeling for a place, but I really could n't help but imagine myself here. I mentally start moving in all my furniture and I've arranged to move in within the month. I pay a man with a van to move my stuff for me, because a combination of pride and fear of rejection stop me asking my friends to help. 
 I unpack my computer, make my bed, and put some clothes away. Unlike many places I have seen, this has a bath. I start to run a bath, both taps at full blast, leaving the bathroom to unpack some towels and bathroom stuff while it fills. I whistle; the taps whistle back.
