Just three months ago I made the drastic decision to pack up my bags and leave the sleepy little town of Bournemouth, Dorset, and move to London for a new job. Although it’s been exciting and pretty fun so far, I’m not going to lie, it’s been quite a huge culture shock too (I’ve never seen so many people in my life and I’ve never spent more than £3 on a pint, so that’s taken some getting used to!) My girlfriend, Ange, is originally from London and she decided to up sticks with me, but because every landlord seems to want a small fortune as a deposit, we moved in with her parents so we could save up.
After 12 weeks of carefully watching every penny (complete lie, most of my pennies have gone on wine) we finally scraped together enough for a flat in zone four, and moved in last week! Our new place is beautiful and seems like heaven after some of the absolute dives we looked at before, including one with ‘cosmetic damage’ (the ceiling was falling down) and another with a pervy owner who seemed far too interested in our couple status.
We managed to nab a free sofa from one of Ange’s mum’s neighbours and luckily we already owned a TV and a stand, so the front room was sorted pretty quicky, albeit a bit bare. Our bedroom came with a ‘double bed’ in it, although we reckon it’s actually a large single. Ange thinks the slats are starting to break under our weight and I’m a bit concerned because it’s been making these weird noises during the night, but time will tell. Beggars can’t be choosers, and as our landlord kindly sourced it for us, we’ll just wait and see if we end up on the floor with a bang in the middle of the night. The bathroom is brand new and sparkly and the kitchen is pretty nondescript. And that’s about it! Oh, and there is parking too (for two cars, which is pretty unheard of in London), so Ange’s sparkly Mini Cooper can sit happily next to my scratched, rusty, falling-to-bits Getz, that was once black but now looks like more of a depressing grey.
We’ve had about seven nights in the flat and all has gone well so far, in the sense that we’ve had no complaints or anything, which is something that I normally seem to have attracted in previous properties… oops.
Anyway, here are a few photos of our lovely little place!
Here we have the front room, complete with my brand new R Pole. It’s brilliant for pole fitness in a rented flat because it doesn’t touch the ceiling, and as ours is suspended, my beloved X Pole has been retired to the corner for now.
Here is a little snippet of Ange’s work space. She has a desk set up in the corner to use for drawing for her tattoos. I’m banned from using it and I’m not allowed to go NEAR it without her popping up out of the blue, asking me what I’m doing.
Here’s the ‘double’ in our bedroom, complete with a zebra throw I can’t bear to part with. I’ve moved at least six times in the last four or so years and it’s been at every place I’ve lived!
And lastly, here’s Ange in an appropriately wintery jumper, trying to ignore me as I wave my iPhone frantically at her, saying: ‘It’s for the blog! It’s for the blog!’ Of course, she’s very enthusiastic.
That’s all for now because we still have a few boxes to sort out and a washing machine abandoned in our hallway, which isn’t the prettiest of things to put on your first blog post. Bye!