A while back we purchased a little piece of paradise. Just a couple of acres in the Swan Valley with some shady trees, space to ride my bike and a place to go for a dip. It is crawling with snakes, foxes and field mice but I adore it and I spend countless hours down there contemplating the wonders of life. Like anyone, we are very protective of our little piece of paradise. Because we don't live there and we have previously had items stolen from it, we keep the gate locked and we keep an eye on it.
Recently, we struck a deal with a local business owner (a stalwart of the Swan Valley business community). To protect his identity and ensure no harm to his business or reputation we shall call him Mr X. Mr X organised and payed to have our property 'hay baled' in exchange for the hay: a good deal. Reluctantly, I handed over the key to the gate so he was able to come and collect the hay as he needed it. I very clearly espoused my feelings about trespassers and other unwelcome visitors. I expected that he had understood.
It did not take me long to regret my decision to allow strangers access to my utopia, but what happened yesterday was the last straw (pardon the pun).
Whilst mowing the fire breaks I started to pieced together smippets of evidence that suggested someone had been frequenting the property in my absence. Low and behold, a vehicle enters through the gate and approaches me. It was Mr X's son and his mate and his mates dog. What transpired was an awkward exchange.
Judging by their attire, the unseasonably warm weather and the fact that Little Mr X had the gate key in his lap it was quite clear that they had come down to the property for a swim. Midst our discussion, my recollection of the rubbish I had collected near the dam and vehicle tire marks all over the property it became immediately apparent that this was not their first visit.
With the tension palpable, Little Mr X had the audacity to inquire as to the possibility of him hosting a party for his mates on my block. Really? I am not sure what was more affronting; his asking or his reaction to my refusing.
Little Mr X and his side-kick genuinely thought that they were entitled to take the key, that I had loaned his father to execute a mutually beneficial arrangement, and come onto my property whenever it suited him to do as he pleased. Moreover, Little Mr X genuinely believed I would welcome the prospect of he and all his buddies turning my utopia into a cesspit of drunken debortuary they would skulk away from at sunrise leaving me to deal with the aftermath.
The most amusing part: following my vehement refusal to accommodate his requests, he returned an hour later in the hope that I had packed up and departed. I have since changed the locks!
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