17.08pm:  25 Elwin Street, E2, Shoreditch

Sun’s out again. Quiet. Children playing across the road in Jesus Green. The boys, soccer; the girls are setting up a tent on the lawn. They are about 9 or 10 years old. I start to wonder where this desire to make a home stems from.

Now the sound of an ice-cream van. And the distant hum of an aeroplane.

Cheesecake in the park.

On Friday the 30th April, at 9.15 pm I went to meet Craig. There were two other housemates, but neither of them were home. This was a cute little terrace house with four bedrooms and no living room. In the hallway we struck our first impasse: there was no room to store a bicycle.

But I didn’t want to go home yet. Craig seemed nice and I wanted company. I would chat and see how these people lived. Walking into the kitchen, I noticed charcoal drawings of naked women adorning the walls. Disguised as art, they were only really there because it’s fun to look at naked ladies. Only I didn’t want to look at naked ladies over breakfast, and I didn’t like the hypocrisy. The drawings were ugly anyway. Craig said he had done them and I pretended not to hear.

Apart from the sketches, I liked the kitchen. It was homey, but very small. On the kitchen bench was a plate with two toasted crumpets with honey. I had obviously arrived just as Craig was about to eat. Politely, he left them aside to show me around. My potential bedroom was small and stuffy. It had wall-to-wall carpet and little storage space.

Back in the kitchen I sat down and we chatted some more. I liked Craig. He worked in politics, another profession I can’t keep in my head. He said that he liked to draw as a hobby, and so did his other housemates. Indeed, there were pictures of naked ladies all over the house. They didn’t eat together – they never had time, but they got along and had lived together for two years.

I talked about squatting. There was something about Craig that made me want to talk. Perhaps it was because he was a sympathetic stranger. I felt myself go on and on. Eventually, he ushered me out the door so he could finish his, now cold, crumpets. I said I’d think about it. Next day I texted my standard reply.