8. My private war with old ladies in London

So you are a young and aspiring student, just coming to London, all happy and optimistic for your bright future.
Unfortunately, unless you are the only son of Bill and Melinda Gates, after a few hours you will be out of money, and you will figure out that the places you were thinking of renting, and looked expensive already, are priced for one week and not one month as you previously thought. Annoyed, you will make some phone calls to your relatives and few connections, and will be referred to various old ladies, all very well connected, who would be extremely happy and willing to help you starting up. You will be invited to come up for tea, and will gladly accept their offer. Upon entering their house, you will find out that you have entered another realm, with a different sense of time. The carpets will smell of maggots and you will notice that the big grandfather's clock is ticking twice as slowly. Everything will be either green or brown, and the numerous paintings of the walls will be by a distant relative of Monet, who was, sadly, much less talented than him.
If she has a dog, it will be miniature- the kind that could fit into her purse. Her cat's meow will resemble the sound of an annoying squeaking door. They will both give you a grumpy and superior look, saying- "this is not proper, the way you are wearing your scarf on". You would imagine these dogs are only peeing on selected trees, and the cats only catch mice after their tea break.
You will follow her to the large living room (with a grand-piano from Chopin's time), and she will prepare tea for you, asking- "do you take it with sugar?". You will sit in the comfortable green couch, and then she will ask you some questions about yourself. If you are married, she will ask why don't you have children. If you have a girlfriend, she will enquire why you are not married. If you are single, she will smile and say- I have just the one for you!, and show you a picture of her neighbor's daughter, so ugly that you will lie and tell her you're gay. There will be a moment of silence, after which she will offer you some biscuits. The biscuits are clearly pre- WWII and you are trying to find a moment when she is not looking at you, to throw them away.
Would you like some more tea?, she will ask. No thanks. Are you completely sure? Yes, I am. Because I am going to have another cup. That's nice of you, but three cups of tea one after the other are enough for me, you will reply. She will pour another cup for you anyway, just in case.
She will then tell you some irrelevant stories from her past, and won't make pauses in her sentences. Finally, in the middle of one of them, you cannot take it anymore, and will ask for the bathroom. Her bathroom will be a very big place, usually full of pictures of very corny jokes, such as- "that's pee time!", and so on. Near the toilet you will find, hidden, a deck of cards, and out of boredom, you will shuffle them for yourself. Soon you will discover there are no aces in the deck, and be left with the dilemma- should you ask her about it, and reveal you have touched her property, or continue living with the mystery? You decide the latter. But when you come back and she continues her endless stories (it seemed that she went on by herself while you were in the bathroom), this stupid thing is always on the back of your mind, and won't give you rest.
After an hour of more stories you are trying to say one word, and reminding her you came to ask for her help. Ah, yes, of course! she will say. We have to wait for 6 o'clock, then I will call my friends. Are they out of home, you ask. No, but it is 2 cents cheaper after six. It is only four in the afternoon, and you have to wait two more hours. After that, she will talk with her friends, who will also invite you for tea and old biscuits- and this whole story will repeat itself, until one of them will tell you she is also renting at a very cheap price (for London) her tiny room in her attic, and you will agree. Then you will be terrorized every morning with complains- you boiled hot water for 2 people instead of one, the glasses were not sparkling after you washed them, and so on. Meanwhile your clothes will stink so much lying in the room, and no one would like to speak with you. Unfortunately, even suicide is not an option, as the window is securely shut, to prevent you from getting some fresh air. Desperate, you want to run away. But you have no where to go- because they are lurking for you on every corner, waiting you to make your first mistake...

But enough I say- no more! I won't tolerate this terror one more second. Today, I am able to look straight into their little beady eyes, and say, in a clear and proud voice: I don't want your help, tea or old biscuits! I don't care if Churchill himself ate them, but they are too old now for me. Do not cough in my concerts, do not give me the bad look if I happen to yawn in the street.
And please don't call to invite me for tea, I will call you. I promise. After six o'clock.