G and I have finally made the move to the one-month flat. We have come to an important realisation through the process of moving; namely, when out of desperation you find a house, removalist and carpet/curtain cleaner all on the one night and all from Gumtree.com, you should not relax and (as I admit I did) congratulate yourself on your organisational abilities. It seems that there was a reason the flat, removalist and cleaner were available at the last minute and had not been hired by anyone else.
It turns out that Vinnie, our removalist (£25 per hour, £10 of that, he said, as he would do all the "heavy lifting") has an aversion to heavy lifting. Indeed, it dawned on us quite quickly that Vinnie was remarkably good at disappearing and that, in fact, the only people doing the heavy lifting were us. I got rather sick of trying to track down Vinnie and eventually gave up when, after one of his rather long absences, I found him hiding behind his van eating some takeaway food from the shop up the road. His only response to my incredulous looks and hand gestures was to offer me a chip.
G and I ended up carting all of our very heavy boxes of belongings up a seemingly endless flight of stairs to the one-month flat. By the end we were exhausted, covered in sweat and panting. Vinnie was out the front, with not a bead of sweat on him, relaxing and having a cigarette.
We then discovered that our carpet/curtain cleaner, despite assuring me he could clean all the carpets and curtains, in fact did not clean curtains. Ever. The residents of Camden were therefore entertained by the spectacle of me carrying in my arms an enormous pile of curtains, the pile towering over me, as I ran up the road to the dry cleaners on the high street. I rather suspect that from the front, it would have looked like a bundle of curtains had sprouted legs and was going for a jog up the high street.
During the move, and as we heaved all the boxes up the stairs into the one-month flat, I confess we didn't look too closely at the flat. We were preoccupied with trying to get all of our boxes in there (and with trying to find Vinnie). It was only after the move that it dawned on us just how bad our one-month flat is. G described it as looking like a "junkie den". For example, we were greeted with two "presents" left in the toilet, that simply would not go away for 48 hours, despite us flushing the toilet numerous times. I am also going to have to avoid any client meetings for the next month, as we have discovered the shower is almost worse than useless, and living out of boxes means that in the morning my choice of clothing is a lucky dip, as I dig into the depths of my clothing box and wear whatever comes out. I suspect that, as I wear through my clean clothing, my work colleagues are going to be witness to some rather unusual outfits.
After an exhausting move, and after spending the weekend in a disgusting flat, we made a desperate telephone call to our solicitor, asking what the hold up was on exchanging contracts and settling on our new flat. We were told that he was only waiting on a document from the local authority. In response to my question "how long until you get that?" he answered "how long is a piece of string". I was not altogether reassured by that response. So, we are waiting, anxiously, and hoping the new purchase settles sooner rather than later, in order that we can escape our junkie's den. As we wait, we are embroiled in a dispute with the ex-landlord, who is inventing items he says we broke/lost in order that he may claim part of our bond.
So, as you can see, we are really living it up in London. At least if and when we move into our new flat, we will really appreciate it!
We today decided that, in an effort to have proper showers and avoid nervous breakdowns, we need a holiday and have booked a last minute trip to Barcelona for the weekend. Hopefully, the next time you hear from me I'll be feeling tanned, relaxed and well watered with Sangria!
It turns out that Vinnie, our removalist (£25 per hour, £10 of that, he said, as he would do all the "heavy lifting") has an aversion to heavy lifting. Indeed, it dawned on us quite quickly that Vinnie was remarkably good at disappearing and that, in fact, the only people doing the heavy lifting were us. I got rather sick of trying to track down Vinnie and eventually gave up when, after one of his rather long absences, I found him hiding behind his van eating some takeaway food from the shop up the road. His only response to my incredulous looks and hand gestures was to offer me a chip.
G and I ended up carting all of our very heavy boxes of belongings up a seemingly endless flight of stairs to the one-month flat. By the end we were exhausted, covered in sweat and panting. Vinnie was out the front, with not a bead of sweat on him, relaxing and having a cigarette.
We then discovered that our carpet/curtain cleaner, despite assuring me he could clean all the carpets and curtains, in fact did not clean curtains. Ever. The residents of Camden were therefore entertained by the spectacle of me carrying in my arms an enormous pile of curtains, the pile towering over me, as I ran up the road to the dry cleaners on the high street. I rather suspect that from the front, it would have looked like a bundle of curtains had sprouted legs and was going for a jog up the high street.
During the move, and as we heaved all the boxes up the stairs into the one-month flat, I confess we didn't look too closely at the flat. We were preoccupied with trying to get all of our boxes in there (and with trying to find Vinnie). It was only after the move that it dawned on us just how bad our one-month flat is. G described it as looking like a "junkie den". For example, we were greeted with two "presents" left in the toilet, that simply would not go away for 48 hours, despite us flushing the toilet numerous times. I am also going to have to avoid any client meetings for the next month, as we have discovered the shower is almost worse than useless, and living out of boxes means that in the morning my choice of clothing is a lucky dip, as I dig into the depths of my clothing box and wear whatever comes out. I suspect that, as I wear through my clean clothing, my work colleagues are going to be witness to some rather unusual outfits.
After an exhausting move, and after spending the weekend in a disgusting flat, we made a desperate telephone call to our solicitor, asking what the hold up was on exchanging contracts and settling on our new flat. We were told that he was only waiting on a document from the local authority. In response to my question "how long until you get that?" he answered "how long is a piece of string". I was not altogether reassured by that response. So, we are waiting, anxiously, and hoping the new purchase settles sooner rather than later, in order that we can escape our junkie's den. As we wait, we are embroiled in a dispute with the ex-landlord, who is inventing items he says we broke/lost in order that he may claim part of our bond.
So, as you can see, we are really living it up in London. At least if and when we move into our new flat, we will really appreciate it!
We today decided that, in an effort to have proper showers and avoid nervous breakdowns, we need a holiday and have booked a last minute trip to Barcelona for the weekend. Hopefully, the next time you hear from me I'll be feeling tanned, relaxed and well watered with Sangria!
oooOooo isn't G a wonderful husband!!!
ReplyDeleteA trip to Barcelona at the last minute is MUCH better than flowers!!! Lets trade :)
-kx
This is honestly the funniest story since the time you thought you said hello to Dieter in the Hay St Mall!
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