flattened.

This is the short version.

Exhaustion. Frustration. Rage. These were emotions I was feeling last night.

After several weeks of flathunting, I finally found a gorgeous room in this woman's two-bedroom apartment. Along the river, with amazing views, and yet somehow still in my price range, I was ecstatic when she called me and said I could live with her.

Yay.

Yesterday was move-out day. After a monster-day-from-hell packing and cleaning, the van company who were to move my stuff called to tell me their vehicle broke down. They had another, but not for hours -- more hours than they even realized. Over four hours later, the guy called me to say he'd be there soonish.

But this was just too much for my to-be-flatmate to take. Having to wait, a few hours for me, no, that was asking too much. She had wanted to go the gym, don't you know?

So after a phone conversation that included her saying "You're not being attentive enough to my feelings," well that was it. No flat for me.

And then, finally, the van showed up.

So now I'm staying at Dan's place, until I find a flat (I shudder at the thought of doing more flathunting) or he gets sick of me and dumps me. Feel free to start a pool on which happens first... I won't be anger. I used it alllllllll up yesterday.

Flat hunter

I've spent my spare moments over the last few weeks looking for a new flat, scanning online ads and cycling around to strange people's homes to see if I want to live with them.

Last week, I saw three places. One had no living room, a kitchen as large as my current bathroom, and a tiny bedroom. I think not. The second was in a kick-ass location (down the road from London Bridge), but the girls living there a) were late due to shopping b) hadn't cleaned the room up nor fixed the falling-down curtains, ripped up carpet or slowly-dying wardrobe c) were unemployed and may have to move soon. Uh, no thanks. The third was in an awesome physical space -- the room is huge with tall arched windows -- but the place was like a hippy commune...

But that's hardly the worst. I've been collecting the best randomly weird comments from online adverts... London is not only expensive, it's full of nutters:

"You will have to share it with a young male, he sleeps in the kitchen during the night, you sleep in the bedroom. "

"Strictly no poofters."

"Rock on each room." -- this from a Korean girl. Sorry, but it's true.

"I use my two bed flat overlooking the thames just at odd times to romance my secretary. You may want to romance someone at your office. Available lunchtimes or early evenings, odd days through the week."

"The top bunk is yours. My 10 year old daughter sleeps in the bottom bunk."

I've managed to sift thru the crazies and the crap to find two very nice sounding places, both in the same area, which I'm going to see tonight... after Peter and Garth get to my place, in Hotel Nicole, pt 4...