My shiny little online spot to help y'all keep track of me while I galavant around London.

Sunday, August 21, 2005


After much walking, tubing, viewing and even more discussion/argument, Emily and Peter and I now have a flat to live in next year.

We've been looking for a while. Orignially, there were six of us. Then two dropped out, and then another, and now it's just the three of us. At the beginning of this monsterous project, we were (obviously) looking for a six-bedroom house, and I admit I was hoping for a nice period-house, like a victorian townhouse or something. We also started looking, for various reasons, in North London.

Now, we'll be living in South London in what they call here an estate building, in a three-bedroom flat. Couldn't quite call it a period-house, given it's in a big ugly 1960s chunk o' housing. (As Emily put it to one estate agent, "I get that they needed to save money and all, but it must have taken effort to build things this ugly. They must have tried.") We did find a Victorian-y house, across from a park, on a gorgeous tree-lined street, but the rooms were all just too small, and it wasn't fully furnished, and it was a bit more money, and it didn't have a proper garden (just this little 5 by 5, to channel Faith, outside space off the insanely pretty kitchen)... and well, the other place, though less posh and pretty, would be more comfortable to live in.

I'm making myself sound unexcited, which I sort of am, but that's due to exhaustion and stress and such, rather than the house sucking. Because it is quite nice.

It's in Stockwell, a lovely neighbourhood in South London with a currently rather infamous tube station. It's a nice area, Brazilian where New Cross is Carribean. Where we're living has good transport links (ten minutes to Stockwell Station... just don't run if you're late... and ten minutes to Wandsworth overground rail station) and is in a nice, family-filled estate.

We're on the ground floor of the building. Out front, there's a small patch of garden with roses. Once inside, there's a good sized kitchen (see below pic, from the estate agents website, it's big enough for a breakfast table, too) and a big living room (big enough for two couches, huge shelves and a dining table), a small bathroom (really just a toilet) and a small utility room/computer room thing.

Upstairs, there're three bedrooms (two good sized one and one smaller one) and the full bathroom, as well as oodles and oodles of storage space. My favourite part of the place though, is the big backyard, which though it's covered in paving stones, is big and perfect for hanging laundry, sitting outside, BBQs and parties, lots of flowers and of course, hammocks.

So yay! This is the first real place I've ever rented (I've lived at home for so long, and then just the barn at the track--oh, I'm so not kidding--and in dorms at Goldsmiths. It's not cheap, but for London, it's a pretty decent rent.

The location is good too. Aside from transport, it's a block off a main road, so close to pubs and shops. There's a 24-hour grocery store down the road and a massive food and flower market two blocks the other way. If you wanted, and I will want to, you could easily walk to Battersea Park in half-an-hour and the Thames in about the same.

The other really nice part is the people who own the place (a family who has upgraded to a bigger house) are replacing all the carpets, most of the furniture (including all the beds) and hopefully the window coverings as well, and they just painted (tho, I admit, I'll be repainting my room, as they're peach, but the rest of the house is fine).

So yes. Pictures to come when we move in. Now I just need to work out the whole money thing... I start work tomorrow, have to finish my essay, touch up my portfolio, write a bunch of freelance stuff and get ready for Mel, Meru and Tony, who are coming in on Friday...


Anonymous Crazy Uncle said...

I never knew that "tube" is also a verb.
In context it cries out for the following revision from Hamlet.

"To tube or not to tube, that is the question.
Whether t'is easier on the mind to suffer the pangs of paranoia,
or, by taking a taxi, avoid them."



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