Yuppies, maybe? Wealthy types, anyway. Definitely bourgeois. That’s one thing that’s an absolute certainty.
They might be a family; working dad, in his 40’s or 50’s, away a lot of the time because his job makes a lot of demands on his time…stay-at-home mum, or perhaps one who works part-time, from home even…couple of kids, three at most, the eldest 15, the youngest a newborn.
The teen’s a bit rebellious. Hates the boring suburbs and the lifeless estate, but is genuinely afraid of any actually working class folk. The family owns three laptops, two cars, and a dog. All of them have smartphones – yes, even the babby. There’s no cash in teh house – sorry burglars – but a veritable fuckload of valuable consumer durables. Well, with the word ‘valuable’ a little loosely-defined.
Their freezer – about the size of a schooner’s anchor – is always full. They have an impressively-stocked drinks cabinet. There is a massive noticeboard in the kitchen that’s covered with awards – rosettes and the like from school for the kids, a few employee-of-the-month type commendations for dad, a few odd man-of-the-match (woman-of-the-match? Person-of-the-match?) prizes for mam from her university days. All sorts. High achievers. You know the like.
Ordinary enough. Fairly unremarkable, really. The kind of people who will live in my home after my family and I are long gone.
Unless I stop them.
Solidarity, brothers & sisters…
