Tomorrow I move for the first time in 4 years. Parental address aside, that's the longest I've ever stayed anywhere. It's a good flat, ideally located for both friends and local services. rent is cheap and while the landlords are slow to move, they are at least sympathetic. Downsides include proximity to traffic, pubs and local drunks, asshole jeweller downstairs, ludicrous gas, electric, water and council tax rates and the fact that it's freezing half the year and roasting the other half.
Truth be told I'm glad to see it go. It's a bit of a shithole. Problem is is that it's my shithole, and I kind of love it. Huxley, my resident flatmate, and I have shared this place with no less than 10 other people over the years, we've had it near empty and filled beyond capacity. We've had a few good parties, many memorable moments and a veritable plethora of people pass through. Nostalgia is still what is used to be, and while I look forward to a nicer, cleaner, quieter life, I shall still miss this place. Earlier I sat with tears in my eyes as my I perused the sticker collection on my desk (that I shall be leaving behind) and actively mourned the years. I did the same when it came to throwing out half my VHS collection, I stared misty-eyed at the covers of classics I bought a decade previously and fell in love with outdated format all over again.
This must stop. I am moving into a lovely new house that my friend Jacqui has bought. This is a picture of her describing a cube.
It's a deliberate attempt to grow up. It's also the reason that I will be offline for at least a couple of weeks.
My room is bared, 'cept a computer, a bed and a bag of rubbish. It looks like a squat, and since technically our lease ran out two hours and five minutes ago, it is.
See you on the other side.
currently listening to: Sweet Child of Mine - you know who
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