A Pleasure and a Calling

by Phil Hogan

After the troubles with cousin Isobel, my father sent me to a school far from Norfolk. It was an opportunity, he said. My mother had left money when she died, and he said that I had to try hard for her.

Neither in nor out, I cultivated a middling, willing sociability, waiting my turn, playing my part.

So, when Rita announced one day that I would have to let myself into a property with a set of keys, it was as if I had spent my life preparing for it.

But I also have my standards. No hidden cameras, wires or microphones are used in the making of my ‘art’. I don’t peep through windows. Where is the pleasure in that? I am not a stalker, or a voyeur. I am simply sharing an experience, a life as it happens.