Where is my home?
I scoffed at the thought that a bed could be presented as art, however, in 1998 Tracey Emin did present an unmade bed as art and people did get drawn to that situation.
Tracey Emin - My Bed 1998 © Saatchi Gallery
My bed was released to me this morning by my guest from hell, in fact, it was my home that I got back because I had become a stranger in my own home all because I was being a friend.
I walked into in my kitchen on Saturday morning, egg shells on the floor, red wine all over the table tops – when my guest appeared from the safety of the master bedroom, I remonstrated about the state of the kitchen, being careful to say, it was no concern of mine how much alcohol he can handle.
It appears he just poured out the last bit of wine in the bottle and returned to the bedroom. So, once again, I had to cleanup because I could not use the kitchen in that state.
Then I pulled out the cutlery drawer, wine stains – that was it – I stormed into the room and asked that he be prepared to leave my house in the afternoon.
By then, I had to speak to my best friend in London from a café down the road, I was completely distraught that I ordered food, but could not eat, when I returned, I took what was left of my wine collection in wine cupboard and stored it all in my cellar.
My friend eventually went to the supermarket downstairs, got cans of beer and a bottle of cheap red plonk. In just over 2 days, my “friend” had downed 3 bottles of port, 4 bottles of red wine of which one was a 1998 reserve, 2 bottles of white wine, a bottle of Moét & Chandon champagne which I usually have reserved in the fridge as well as probably 24 cans of lager.
In all, I really only gave him two bottles of white wine, the rest he took without permission, strange that he could drink fine wines when free and when it came to his buying the stuff, the wine could have found better use for dying garments.
There is no doubt, this young man has issues, serious issues which might require professional help, I really do not want to get involved, but I have been drawn into the thick of it. If he had stayed in a hotel, he would get a hefty bill for thrashing the hotel as well is a one for raiding the mini-bar - this man was taking liberties with impunity and I allowed it in my own home.
Used, violated, abused, disrespected and taken advantage of by someone who thought he could use our friendship with contempt and without consideration, contemplation or reflection.
I want to believe that it was not my friend who visited me, but the alcohol that took hold of a rather nice person and turned him into a slob, a monster and an uncaring wreck as he left with the understatement – I know you are uncomfortable with me being here – I could only mutter, safe journey - I wish I had the presence of mind to take photos of everything else I have related.
As he left, I walked into my room and I cried …
I present my bed.
The pillows - he had put the pillow cases in the wash basket
The mattress would probably need to be replaced
Wine stains on the wall, was he doing libations to the gods? The headboard is all covered with the stains too.