Fast Fiction: A Place Like This
...He picked up his palette. 'I just want to be left alone to paint.'
'And why don't you try some decorating as well?' I said, nastily.,,
But can the artist be helped? Richard Mallinson tells a tale of intervention.
'What the hell are you doing living in a place like this?' I asked.
'Avoiding the rat race.'
'Judging by the state of this house, I'd say there are rats here.'
'Oh, I can cope with that sort.'
He picked up his palette. 'I just want to be left alone to paint.'
'And why don't you try some decorating as well?' I said, nastily.
Then I said, 'Sorry - some of us are worried about you. I'm here to see if there's anything we can do to help.'
'I don't need any help, thank you. So please just go back to London and tell them all I'm fine ... I've got everything I need here ... What I like about this village, or hamlet really, is that it hasn't changed in years. All these lovely tumbledown old houses ...'
'Jesus,' I said, 'it's freezing in here. Can't you do something about these broken windows? And perhaps light a fire? All this rubbish - why don't you just chuck it out? Is this the only chair in the place? ... Is there any chance of a beer, d'you think?'
'Please don't ask me any more questions,' he said, falling down.
I stood over him.
'You are in a bad way,' I snapped.
'Actually, I was perfectly all right until you arrived,' he said, mildly.
