Sooooo…I didn’t keep my promise about writing more regularly again. You wanna know why? Because I’ve spent the last couple of weeks having tiny panic attacks about everything I can possibly think of, BECAUSE…dunnnn dunnn dunnnnnnnnn…we are moving house!
We are moving back to the big smoke, back to the lovely old streets of London. And I’m excited. But I am also soincrediblystressed. Everything has moved so quickly since Ben accepted a new job down south. We had to get cracking straight away so that we had somewhere to live for when he started work at the end of May. I mean, we had very kind offers from my family to house us both, but we really wanted to try as hard as we could to sort something as soon as we could.
And that we did.
The week after Ben accepted his new job I hopped on a train to spend the week in London viewing every possible flat I could handle. From living in London before I knew the two main rules:
1) Rent is HIGH
2) Good places go FAST and usually before they’ve even been formally advertised.
I was praying for one of these illusive good places. It’s very much right place right time. It’s also very much a case of the letting agent pinning you against a wall and screaming at you until you tell them you want the flat and handing over a holding deposit before you’ve even caught your breath.
I was very much prepared for all of this and yet it still made my head spin.
I spent my first day traipsing up and down the streets of Stoke Newington, going to to every letting agent I could, repeating my lines ‘can I give you my details, I’m after a 1 bedroom flat and my budget is max £1500 per month’. And without fail nearly every agent replied ‘there’s not much on the market at the moment, everything is going so far, but how about viewing this flat, which is in the ghetto and out of your price range?’.
I booked in a few viewing for the following day, none of which I was particularly excited about. They’d all been on the market for at least two or three weeks, so I knew they wouldn’t be up to much. The following morning I decided to do a bit more online searching. Gum Tree…nada. On to the letting agents. I found a place I liked the look of, right at the very top of our budget but in the perfect location. I gave the agent a call. Gone. ‘But there’s a flat that only came on two days ago and only had one viewing. Do you want to see it?’ Why not. Where is it? Three doors down from the very building I was sat in, my sister’s house. Creepy, but promising.
Literally 15 minutes later, I’d had my viewing, I’d Skyped Ben a mini flat tour and we’d handed over a holding deposit.
Things move that fast.
I’ve only got some rubbish photos that I took on my phone and some I took of the actual leaflet I was given by the agent…but here is our new home.
I do really love it. I mean, it’s on the 4th floor, in the attic of a town house, it needs some serious painting (which the landlord has agreed we can do), it’s one bedroom, so much smaller than our house right now and tall people may not cope well in there, but I can’t wait. It’s about 100 meters to a really brilliant park, about the same distance to one of the most ‘happening’ streets in North London and there are shops, busses, and pubs galore. It’s next door to my sister and down the road from my brother and one of my oldest friends.