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flat-hunting

A Farce, You Say?

Hmmm… haven’t felt much like writing on here for a while. Real life gets in the way sometimes, have had a really, really weird three weeks, sometimes very depressed and generally disorientated.

Well, the move to Brighton happened. And about five seconds after, I realised it was a total, fucking mistake. You can’t begin to imagine what an amazing mind-fuck that is. This is what happens if you’re stuck in a too-expensive place on your own—you don’t think things through properly.

How can I detail my problems with Brighton? *sigh* Let’s try a bulleted list…

* I actually have friends in London.
* I miss them.
* It’s not as quick/easy to get to London as I deluded myself.
* It’s even harder to get to anywhere else in the country. Travel from here is just a total pisser.
* I got shit on by a bird for the first time since I was about seven years old within a couple of days of coming here.
* The coastal winds are utterly vicious, especially at night.
* And the nights are cooooooooold.
* Spiders and woodlice and bugs generally… lots of them. Everywhere.
* Nothing resembling a ‘proper’ city locally.
* Most of the buildings are ancient and in a shockingly awful state of decay. Even the really expensive ones. Double-glazing hasn’t been invented here yet.
* Living in an ancient, conversion-job building with a shared entrance and paper-thin walls really sucks. I don’t want to know when someone in the floor above farts, but I pretty much do.
* This Hobbit-hole won’t even allow a single divan through its doors. I still have neither a proper sofa to sit on or a bed to sleep on.
* Fresh coastal air, yes, but tons of earthy dirt and grime and dust nonetheless. Everywhere. Poor pooch Fred had a totally black belly within a week of being here.

And on and on and on. Think you get the idea. Brighton’s a beautiful place to visit, but man, living here is another matter entirely.
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Definitely Maybe Moving

Well, yes, we might have a new home! The flat’s location is okay. In fact, in terms of public transport, it’s excellent. The estate is a bit, uh, mediocre. The flat itself is just average, and needs to be completely redecorated. But it could be a lot worse.

It was brand new on the market, so we were the first to view it. Mom decided to say we were interested. We got a call late this afternoon from the estate agents to tell us the seller was agreeable, so it’s ours if we want it.

As always, for me, mixed feelings. Somewhere just a wee bit nicer would make me feel better, really. But, the truth is, nothing else vaguely acceptable and within our budget might turn up for another six months. Our financial situation is bad. The car’s MOT and tax is up early next week, and we can’t afford to renew it, so until we move and have more spare cash, the car’s out of action.
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Going, Going, Gone!

I guess it’s time for the latest, highly entertaining house move news. *sigh* We found out (yesterday) that the flat’s already been sold. In fact, it was already sold, bar the formalities, prior to Monday when mom went to see it… shame the estate agents didn’t bother mentioning this and saving her a journey. They were very apologetic, but it’s quite shabby. I won’t mention which estate agents it was, though.
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A Career Move

The flat-viewing was today. I had a New Deal appointment, so I couldn’t go, but mom gave me a detailed report. We’re both in a state of uncertainty, I guess. Mom has reservations about the patio door—she forgot to check if it was double-glazed or not (not double-glazed = easily smashed). [Note added later: the estate agent specs state it is double-glazed.] My reservation is where the flat is. I just don’t like the place. The flat sounds great overall, but the location sucks as far as I’m concerned. I’m trying to figure out if I can bear to spend the next x-number of years there.

I really don’t know. We need to move badly. That badly? Maybe.
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House Move Blues

I can’t make plans anymore. I had arrangements to go somewhere this Summer, and would have been away from home for about two weeks. Call it a holiday of sorts. Anyway, I was supposed to be setting out on July 28th.

But, of course, this f***ing house move has spoiled all that.
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Get Me Away From Here, I’m Dying

I’ll tell you another big drawback with this house move thing. I (rather optimistically) packed up a lot of my books and music some months ago in anticipation of moving! So, of course, certain items I might have given little thought to for aeons suddenly take on a rosy, alluring glow, knowing they’re just beyond reach. Oh, I could undo the boxes (which are in the spare room), but fiddling with all that parcel tape is too depressing. So I’ll wait. And try more optimism as best I can.
Read More »Get Me Away From Here, I’m Dying