Squat sitting is basically that. Housesitting, but with the intention of safeguarding the belongings of the squat's occupiers and preventing any uninvited guests from entering, whilst they spend the day in court defending their right to stay. Squat squatting, I suppose.
At the meeting last night, a call went out from a young dark-haired woman who needed someone to mind their space, so that she and her housemate could attend court. With their day divided into two (first half, to be in court at 10am to deliver their defence; and then to return for 3pm to hear the verdict), I volunteered for the afternoon shift and turned up at their parkview house, to be overjoyed by the fact they had working electrics, water and wi-fi (all of which they had found intact after opening the squat and all much missed in my life).
Thankfully, the afternoon goes well, with no unexpected visitors or trouble. Thankfully too, Courthousemate neglects to inform me until much later that their squat may be haunted, thanks to the previous houseowner hanging himself somewhere in the building!
Because squatter support or not, I'm not doing it if there's a dead man floating about. I do possess some integrity!
Courtgirl returns later with some amazing news... that they've won. Their defence was so well prepared, that the court could do nothing but give in. For now, or until they are issued with an interim possession order, Courtgirl reckons they can live here for another month or so.
As the rain pelts down heavily outside, I join Courtgirl, Courthousemate and their Berlin friends for a celebration dinner, wildlife documentaries (involving shark embryos battling for supremacy) and some blessed thanks that the judge today was sympathetic.
