Highly Strung

I hesitate to write this as I fear I may invite the wrath of the house moving gods upon me, however, all is going well. Replacement flatmate has been acquired, boxes are packed, mattress is being delivered the day before I move in, bed the day after.

The only slight fly in the ointment is that the futon sofa can not be delivered until early October, maybe a bean bag would suffice in the meantime – we’ll see.

I have not brushed my hair in three days – and I don’t even care..

Riding home after a dispiriting spanish class this evening I was trying to cycle pretty fast. It was getting dark and I was anxious to get home for a glass of wine. A number of slower cyclists were cluttering up the road so I made a break for freedom as we hit the bend near Baker Street around Regents Park.

One guy on a good looking road bike had been tucked in behind a slower guy, obviously drafting, I sailed past them and as I did so, the guy on the road bike swung out and tucked himself in behind me. By this stage I was up to 22 miles an hour, we carried on up to the Mosque on the corner, I turned left, feeling the burn in my lungs and hoping this guy would go straight on so I could slow down without losing face…he stuck with me.

We turned left onto Lisson Grove, I kept up the pace, crossing St John’s Wood and coasting down to Maida Vale. As I slowed to ride around a car at the corner leading onto Maida Vale the guy behind me, who by this time had had a free ride for a good mile or two swooped past me and took off down Maida Vale. Determined to claim my free ride I struck out after him, a couple of mopeds travelling abreast of each other hindered my progress, he pulled away and by god he was going fast. I was back up to 22 miles per hour when I just managed to catch him. Now I’m completely out of breath but hoping to stick with him for a bit, he turns left and I carry on straight…denied.

Erm, not to be callous or anything, but ..bound to happen at some point wasn’t it.

..I’m leavin’.

I’m bloody glad I am so organised and kept all the boxes from the last time I moved, I don’t know how I’d pack all the shit I appear to own otherwise.

It’s kind of nice moving from just having a room in a house to having a whole flat, it makes all the stuff I kept since living with my ex boyfriend seem sensible now. All of sudden the vacuum cleaner, ironing board and assorted kitchen stuff seems worth keeping. Although I’m not sure what use my measuring cups and measuring spoons are going to be. Maybe my life will dramatically change when I live on my own, maybe i’ll start baking bread and cakes and stuff…or…not.

Dammit I keep looking around me and seeing more stuff that I need to take. Must not forget my cookbooks, and my dining table.

I take it all back. All the nasty things I’ve been saying about the Next courier who I waited in for 3 saturdays in a row as I received 3 different deliveries of broken dinner sets.

Today I asked the courier to wait while I checked all the pieces were intact – surprise, they were not. Instead of being the usual shitty disinterested delivery guy, this one suggested that I combine the dinner sets to form a full unbroken set. Pure genius! It took me some time to unpack each piece and swap bits over, so it was really nice of him to wait, although to be fair there was something in it for him. As I was leaning over i’m pretty sure he was enjoying the view down my top and when i crouched down on the floor I reckon my low slung trews may have been revealing a little more than just my tattoo.

I know it aint right but I’m doing it anyway – it’s a drunken post: tonight i was supposed to be home for 7pm in order to meet flatmates i’m not going to be living with – as you do. I met the 7pm, who didn’t seem too interested, 7.30pm cancelled by text message so I decided to blow off 8pm and leave it to the socially inept flatmate in favour of rejoining a load a workmates who were out for the night. And quite a night it was.

The highlights and lowlights of which were: (A) a bloke from work telling me that there’s something about me lately which is more sexy, and a number of them have been discussing it – it’s the hair apparently (see the natural bouffant styley is right yeah). (B) and this one is more of a lowlight; a friend from work, who I admit I have a soft spot for, trying to drag me off into a corner for a kiss, cos according to him, I’m gorgeous. While that’s all very nice, he is about to be married and has three kids with his partner…shame I have to be the police in this situation isn’t it? I did tell him that he would regret his behaviour in the morning and that I would be reminding him of it on Monday. I so will as well.

And now to sleep – supposedly more potentials for my room in the morning – if they turn up.

I have been reliably informed by my sister (with whom I share a birthday), that it is my 33 1/3 birthday on the 10th of September. I was not aware people celebrated such things. My sister is even having a party for it, although I suspect it may be a case of ‘any excuse for a party’.

In a strange piece of synchronicity my favourite ex boyfriend turns 30 that day.

The hunt for the replacement flatmate goes on. I feel that we are doing something fundamentally wrong here, and it may in fact be that introducing my current flatmates to future flatmates is somewhat off putting. Certainly male flatmate could talk the hind leg off a donkey and seems to be trying to do just that. Female flatmate is fairly consistent in her conspicuous absence. She refuses to take any phone calls from potential flatmates/ mental incompetents and is often unavailable during viewings because clearly her social life comes first as opposed to the threat of coming up with my rent as well as hers if they do not find someone.

I particularly liked Thursday morning when she summoned me to her bedroom by shouting my name and then casually uttered the words “I’m off to Paris for 4 days for work”. Hmmm – thanks for letting me know – have you heard of email my dear?? Probably not I suspect, unless of course it is for something dramatically important like asking me to feed her manky goldfish. She also asked if perhaps we should consider putting an ad in Loot (the free ads paper for insane people). My carefully considered answer was: “I don’t know, should you?” I do feel that if more effort needs to be made than surely the person it should come from should be her, due to the fact that some people are already putting in considerable effort – which to be fair, includes male flatmate, bless his talkative but nerdy little heart.

In other news the scale of my talking to myself has increased dramatically over the last couple of weeks. Scarily I’ve now progressed to answering myself as well, which is particularly batty.