Plotting our escape …

So Craig and I went to look at two flats last night.

We saw the estate-housing outside of one and sent a message to the agent saying we were no longer interested.

We saw the outside of the other, the one suggested by a friend of a friend & the area and realised that it was perfect. Less than 5 minutes walk from the place Craig is starting at on Monday and unbelieveably close to the Tate Modern. I mean, out the front door, turn right, at the end of the street (which is … fewer than 100 steps away) you look left and bam it’s right there. A block away.

I was certain that we weren’t going to get it. We looked around inside and it’s tiny but it all looks new and pristine and the other flatmate is a girl called Sally who markets haircare products and brings her work home with her. She once had 70 bottles around the bathroom.
We talked and joked and asked about her and she asked about us, told us that there were 8 other people viewing it and that we would know by Friday.
We walked back down the 7 million stairs (on the 4th floor. No elevator). Outside, Craig turned to me and said “it’s perfect. Yea. We’re never going to get it”.

You know where this is heading right?

We walked to the central line tube station at St Paul’s (yes. St Paul’s Cathedral is walking distance. I was in love) talking and talking about how pefect it is. How we were so never going to get it.
It’s in SE1 which is … about as close to the absolute centre of London as you can get. There is no SE0.

As we were sitting on the bus I got the call from Sally.
Craig saw me on the cellphone, peering around the legs of the man standing in the aisle between our seats and trying (failing) to sound cool & calm I eyebrow-ed him as I said to Sally “It’s ours!?!”

It is more expensive than the place we’re living at the moment. But not much more considering we’re moving from W(est)4 to S(outh)E(ast)1.
I’m not even going to tell you the rent because you may make the mistake of converting, like I did. And my head hurt just a little. I have to remember that we’re paying less than 25% of one income for rent. In New Zealand we were paying close to 45% of two. So London is cheaper to live in.
Comparatively.

We’re still living … in the flat of horrors until the 5th of September.
As we walked home from the bus stop (across the park & field where I expect to find a body one say) we discussed how to tell the people we’re living with that after only a week we’re moving.
It was not made any easier by the fact that when we got to the lounge (through the wide-open front door) they were all sitting around playing cards and were genuinely nice & funny & oh gosh I almost feel guilty … almost.

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One comment

  1. SuperGlobalHyperMeganet · August 6, 2007

    hey s-r, how hot is it there?!

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