Suddenly, after 28 weeks and 3 days the
building work on my house is done. Yesterday there were 4 builders sorting the tarmac driveway, two electricians finishing the outside lights, a tiler and a carpenter. Today, they have all but departed. Even the blue portaloo went. My house isn't complete… but to all intents and
purposes there remains only finishing off and snagging, to be done by one
remaining builder. (He must have done something very bad to be left behind!).
The builders have worked 8 – 4.30, 6 days a
week for 26 weeks (they had 2 weeks off at Christmas but even came in then- I
rashly promised them Christmas dinner if my kitchen was in). There have been
between 2 and 18 people on site for the entire process. Typically there have
been around 10 people here daily… and me.
For 28 weeks my daily contact has been the
builders. And now they are done. They have started an extension round the
corner. Quite by accident I took a wrong turn yesterday and saw their vans
parked out side the new building project. I think I felt envy. This is typical
of someone who has been in an abusive relationship. They miss it when it’s
over.
In fact I think I need therapy. I have Stockholm syndrome! The term comes from
a bank robbery (would you believe it was in Stockholm?!!!) where the bank
robber held four employees captive for 131 hours. Upon release the hostages
felt a paradoxical emotional bond with their captor. It is also known as Survival
Identification Syndrome. It is a psychological phenomenon where the hostages have
empathy and feelings towards their captor. Having lived in Sweden I can understand this as no one speaks to each other. It must have been such an enjoyable novelty to spend so much time with a complete stranger!
The factors contributing to Stockholm Syndrome are:
-
The crisis lasts for several days or longer
-
The
hostage takers remains in contact with the hostage
-
The
hostage takers show some kindness towards the hostage or do not harm them
-
There is perceived
inability to escape the situation
I spent approximately 1428 hours with the
builders. I think I qualify on the time front. I couldn’t escape them for fear
of deviation from the plans if I left them to their own devices. And they had
shit loads to do so they had to put in the hours. I was a prisoner in my own
home… which they demolished and rebuilt around me. I was in constant contact
with them. I was asked approximately 100 questions a day ranging from
incomprehensible ones like ‘Which way would you like your soffits’ (I have found that lengthways is best) to “Can
I borrow your Fairy’ (for an extra tight fit). If I had a minute for every time
I was asked if I had a minute, I could while away the hours, conferrin’ with
the flowers!
I have been in crisis for most of the 1428 hours. It’s had an impact. I feel
anxious when I leave the house, mostly incase a wall has been built in the
wrong place or a wrong wall knocked down in my absence. I also feel anxious
that the dog will bite one of the builders while I’m out. To try and make
friends with him, they have fed him so much pork pie that he had internal
bleeding and had to go to the emergency vets. He loves the regulars! He too has
Stockholm syndrome.
People
in stressful situations who develop Stockholm Syndrome do anything to survive.
I made around 40 cups of coffee for my captors every day. I made them breakfast
butties on a Friday and a full English on a Saturday. I wore baggy jeans
without a belt on so I showed my arse crack every time I bent down… just to fit
in. I walked around all day with a pencil behind my ear, holding a paintbrush
and eating pork pie (that the dog left). I may even have internal bleeding. I
couldn’t drink builders’ tea though. I like milky weak stuff, but even that has
got darker, like my spirit. I did draw the line at scratching my bollocks in
sweat pants reminiscent of Rocky Balboa in his finest hour. Maybe there’s hope
for me yet?
My captors were nice to me on occasion. Once I
threw a wobbly and they bought me 2 litres bottle of coke because I couldn’t
find my can of coke and cried… a lot. I didn’t cry because of the lost coke. I
cried because I was being held hostage on a building site and was having a
breakdown… but it was a kind gesture. Hurrying up, not standing around drinking
40 cups of coffee, and finishing the job and fucking off quickly might have had
a better psychological impact on my mental health but I appreciated the coke at
the time. I think we were about 12 weeks into the build at that point. I
certainly didn’t feel able to escape the situation at any point.
I shall end up like Patty Hurst, the
Californian newspaper heiress who was kidnapped by revolutionary militants in
1974. She joined them in a robbery. I’ll be hanging around building sites
pretending to be a sub-contractor. I know all the terminology. I can talk
flanges and ring mains and spirit levels and I reckon I could do a better job
than the tiler who walked off site half way though the tiling yesterday because
he had to cut too many tiles to maintain the twisted wonky pattern he had
created. Luckily my builder will step in to finish the job. He will have to
even stay longer now!!!
I don’t feel ready to let them go. They do have
some finishing off to do and I’ve a feeling the snag list will keep them busy
for quite a while… not because they’ve lot lots to correct but because I will
be very demanding on the final finish of the house. My excuse? Stockholm
syndrome!
