Tomorrow! Saturday! Moving day!
The flat is beautiful. New EVERYTHING. Kitchen fittings, bathroom fittings = all new and shiny with exciting things like floor to ceiling heated towel rail. You can't buy that sort of luxury. Well, you CAN buy that sort of luxury, really, but nevertheless it is luxury that laughs in the face of the Student Houses I lived in, where it was not uncommon to find yourself standing in a freezing cold kitchen, shivering in just a towel, watching with growing perplexity as your feet turned blue as you waited for the kettle to boil for the tenth time so you could have a bath with more than two inches of tepid water in it. This flat? Is worlds away from that. Oh yes. It is the flat of Young Professionals.
So you'd think I'd be excited, right? The exclamation marks at the beginning of this post imply that not only am I moving tomorrow but that I am excited? Right?
(I am so bored of having to talk about potential good things and then follow them with a couple of lines space and then the word 'but' in doom-ridden, capital letters.) (However.)
It fell through. Oh, not, not literally. And I know it wouldn't suprise you to hear that it was nicked off me by a youth with a hoody with ASBO-LUTELY emblazoned across the front from a pub just off the Old Kent Road, but no, that is not the case.
The landlord owns quite a few three bed flats in the building that our (pretty, pretty) flat lives in, and one of the other ones had a problem with the boiler, or there was a gas leak, or something, and so he decided to move the tennants of that flat into our (pretty, pretty) flat and so we cannot also be there, I assume because we would never be able to decide who would be in charge of the remote.
The estate agents have 'done everything they can' and are trying to sort us out. They have offered us places in Battersea, which is nice, but so much trickier to get to than Oval. They also mentioned that we MIGHT be able to move into the (pretty, pretty) flat in January, once the problems with the other flat have been sorted out, so I am going to phone them today and see what the real chances of that are. I really hope that we can, I don't mind waiting.
It's strange, I haven't been too upset about this. Before I knew about the possibility of moving in January I was upset because HELLO? HEATED TOWEL RAIL! but now it's still within reach I am just clinging to this hope. I am worried about Bec and David (my flatmates) because they're living in a flat at the moment that makes them both so miserable, and the prospect of staying there longer than Saturday is almost too much to bear. They had booked a van, packed boxes, really organised stuff. Whereas I? Was just going to pack some stuff on Saturday morning and get The Commander (my Dad) to give me a lift down there. I don't mind staying with my parents for another month, they have Sky Plus, but it's horrible for the other two chaps.
I would be upset if we couldn't get this flat at all, ever. I think perhaps I'm not that upset because I was so expecting something to go wrong, that I now feel like, well, no, nothing goes right, but that's the way it is. At least I was prepared.
Oh! Such cynicism in one so young.
In other news, I am going tonight to see my big sister in a play at the Actors Centre in central London somewhere, and then then I'm going for dinner with a man. Who I think I like but about whom I have the same attitude as I did towards the flat, so I don't really want to talk about it.
Also something strange has happened here in BlogLand. I wasn't sure how to talk about this or whether to talk about it even at all. I feel like this part of my life, the blogging part, which has become increasingly important to me, has been altered somewhat by the arrival on the 'scene' of someone I know. Someone who, for reasons that are to do with illness, made my life hell for a while some years ago. I have tried to think of him as a different person now to the person who emotionally tortured me when I was younger, but I can't. I can't see him without being reminded of things that happened years ago and I am disconcerted by his arrival. He has linked to people I am linked to, or who are linked to me, and he says it's coincidence. Perhaps it is, but I don't mind admitting that it bothers me. He will never understand what he put me through and what effect it had on me. I know he was ill, but it doesn't change anything from my perspective. I want so much to be able to detach the person who did all that to me from the person who wants to be friends now, who has a blog and who purports to be a 'different person now'. If he's reading this I am sure I will get a response via email. I am not saying the way I feel is the best way to feel, but it remains true nevertheless.
So if my posts are less frequent now, it is because I feel like my treasured world of internet honestly and open-ness has somehow been tainted. I am sorry. I don't care that it might be a coincidence, or that it's just a 'small world' thing. It IS like last time, when he stayed with my family, palled up with my best friends, claimed to know more about my life than I did, and then used it all to make me doubt everything I took to be safe. I can't tell you how much I wish it didn't feel that way, because it probably isn't about that. But I can't help that history has taught me not to believe a word, because someone is always, ALWAYS just about to screw you the fuck over.
I'm sorry if that doesn't make sense. DT, I'm sorry to upset you, or to make you feel guilty. I am going to be resolutely honest about this, though. All those years ago I was too scared and ashamed to tell anyone what was going on, to admit that I made mistakes that might have contributed to the situation, and by the end I was so unsure of myself that I couldn't even trust myself when I was talking the the authorities. I hated it, so, so much. It hurts me now to think about it. I refuse to have doubts about things in silence, I refuse to distrust my own instincts because pop-psycho-babble tells me to do something that contradicts them.
Enough, sorry for the rant. It wasn't intentional. It's just that I am quite quick at typing (quite) and it means that I type as I think and it comes out all rant-y.
Oh, it's Friday, though. So that's fun. I might have chocolate today, I have to buy some for this guy I work with, because I lost a Simpson's-based bet. Damn.
Oh, and there will still be a house-warming party, but it will be slightly delayed.
I might update later on.