I have spent an inordinate amount of time over the past couple of months talking and thinking about flat/house hunting, to the point where I’ve become rather bored of hearing myself. I’m not sick of the sound of my own voice – I wouldn’t be much of a columnist if that were ever true – but constantly searching for a new home is draining.
Well, I have found one. At last! Rejoice, rejoice, hallelujah. It is rather good news, as I’m sure you can imagine. It certainly is good news for my mum and dad, with whom I have been living for the last 14 months. These two sainted individuals gave me the space to relax and enjoy the lack of responsibilities I had whilst living as a single guy in his mid-thirties with them; it was actually a rather secret pleasure to not have to worry about utility bills for a while, and my mum even offered (honest) to do my ironing for me whilst I was here.
Sainted doesn’t cover it.
But the time was right for me to regain the independence that comes with living by yourself. I’ve had the grand tour of a number of different places over the past few weeks, and it’s been grossly depressing; the fist-sized holes in the wall, the mould that should condemn a shower unit beyond all doubt, the mountain of debris and rubbish in a bedroom bin that is far beyond anything I can comment on here.
And then I found The One. It just took some patience and perseverance, both of which I found myself lacking at a couple of points along the way. But I’m glad I did persevere, because The One is giving me everything I need in a place I can call my own; decent space, a spare room for visitors, a kitchen that is bigger than a postage stamp but not big enough to get lost in, and a sense of calm that’s difficult to quantity, but you know it when you see it.
That mysterious x-factor we all look for in a home is here in this one; I rejoiced at the vibes I picked up on the tour round. In fact, I knew it was right for me as soon as I stepped inside for the viewing, and that was only confirmed when I went back to measure up for curtains. Actually, let me quantify that; I went in to plan my furniture layout, and my chief creative consultant – AKA my mum – did the actual analysis, along with her senior assistant, AKA my dad.
So now I need to remember how to set up utility bills – I’ve found some extremely good quotes by taking recommendations from people who know far more than I do about these things – as well as register for council tax and all the hundred and one companies that seem to want to know where I live on a daily basis.
I am a great fan of lists, so that’s what I’m working off at the moment; I have stocks and supplies galore, and I’ve got a removals van doing all the heavy lifting. My role on the day will be as chief of operations, directing movements and making tea whilst ensuring that my books are in alphabetical order (for fiction) and subject (for non-fiction).
Saturday, March 3, folks; crumbs, that’s closer than I realised. Better finish off those lists.