90
Drum: FICTION
ome had established a fine reputation for itself and had become the
estate agent of choice for aspirational buyers and greedy sellers in the
vibrant (yet friendly), eclectic (but reassuringly traditional) suburb in
which it operated. We don’t sell houses; we find homes was the strapline
which adorned all its marketing literature and which was emblazoned across
its shop front. The idea was that ‘selling’ was slightly vulgar; Home was in
the business of enabling, supporting and empowering individuals, couples
and families in their quest to realise the innately human desire to occupy a
space of their own.
H
Home ceased selling, empowering and enabling
on 7 July 2002. On 11 July 2003, James
landed at JFK with a Time Out Guide, two
credit cards and a pounding headache
which had started four days previously
when he accepted a reversed charge
call from New York. His progress into
arrivals was hampered by ruthlessly
inefficient bureaucracy and by his
random selection as the one
passenger who was taken off to
undergo a polite interrogation
which eventually established his
status as a bona fide visitor.