The new place then, badger hovel C or the sett (it's got to be hasn't it, what other word is there for where badgers live?) what's it like? Well, it's a third-floor (fourth-floor if you're American), top-floor flat with the usual number of rooms (four) and a view of the Gherkin from the bedroom window (but no lift). It's not far from the Old Kent Road - which is funny because that's the road I always bought first when I played Monopoly, never quite twigging that it was a down-at-heel dive - and there is an enormous Tesco's two minutes' walk away. The development was built in the mid 1980s out of yellowish brick and is a bit toytown-ish and suburban, with all the good and bad traits that implies. The flat itself is clean, habitable, has been well-maintained and has access to loft storage. No one outside of London could begin to comprehend how rare these features are at the arse end of the inner-city housing market. I have seen some real, terrifying Dickensian horrors during this eight-month flat hunt, with higher asking prices and in rougher areas, natch.
in the eye of the hurricane?
The good ship that is my marriage took a thorough beating in a tropical storm yesterday. We're both safely back onboard and looking around thinking "crikey, how did we make it through that?" We're still assessing the damage, but are grateful that so far we seem to have survived relatively unscathed. TA may need to book a stay in the infirmary for a while though, which is difficult since he's literally overseas right now. All of which makes this musing about the new place bitter-sweet. *change in metaphor alert* I had cherished such intoxicating dreams about how we would live in the sett, alone again at last after years of sharing, but have now sobered up and find myself with a raging hangover and an awful lot of stairs to climb. The sett may be all that I dreamed it could be, but to stand any chance of achieving that we are both going to have to work extremely hard over the next few months.