About two years ago when I first moved to Dublin City I was really excited. I had this vision of a New-York Sitcom type life. After spending my formative years in bog holes and blackberry bushes, in the back end of nowhere, I was ready. This was going to be a new beginning and I tried as usual to have realistic expectations.

But Dublin was pricey and I soon realised that there is no such thing as the dream apartment. There is the apartment that will have you and you accept gratefully whether or not the toilet works and the ceiling is caving in. So I ended up in a teeny tiny shared room. There was barely space to stand between my bed and my roommates.

The second issue arose when I tried to unpack. It soon became clear that by Dublin standards I was something of a hoarder and there just wasn’t enough space to accommodate all my belongings.

But this was not going to deter me. I decided to befriend my new housemates. After all this was never going to be like the TV sitcoms if we didn’t get to know each other. I was living with what appeared to be a lovely Brazilian couple and a very shy girl who barely spoke. So at our first house-breakfast I attempted to make conversation.

I assumed of course that they just weren’t morning people. Having grown up with my mother not being able to piece a sentence together until the coffee kicks in , I wasn’t surprised.

However, my quiet roommate made it rather clear that they simply weren’t chatty folk. That afternoon I was presented with the official house rules.

A most welcoming list of laws to abide by.

The list had at least twenty rules varying in levels of normalcy. Being my usual tactful self I tried to make light of the situation.

Needless to say nobody was impressed.

I made a few more light-hearted and sarcastic remarks.

That fell heavy on what was a very silent audience.

After that I got a bit nervy. I tried asking about the girl I’d replaced and why she had left. But my shy roommate didn’t offer much in the way of useful information.

Despite my misgivings it seemed like it was too early to give up on the living arrangement yet. After all I’d only been in Dublin a week and they were just quite people. I could cope with silence and perhaps the awkward feeling would subside. I was going to make the best of it. That was until I discovered a weird and disturbing thing. One day I came home earlier than planned and heard duck noises coming from the Brazilian couples room.

At first I thought they might just be watching a documentary. But is soon became clear that this was not the case. I hoped then that perhaps this was a once-off. But a few days later, when it happened again, I realised I’d moved in with some rather unusual people.

 

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