I've had a little bit too much
2011-10-25 | 7:26 p.m.
I'm going to Dublin on Friday and it has flooded! And someone died on a fairground ride (one of my greatest fears). I reckon my trip has the high chance of containing scenes of mild peril. Obviously it must be massively shit for anyone who lives there and is affected but I feel sorry for my bro too as he (coincidentally! For my party that is) is running the Dublin marathon on Monday, trying to break a Guinness World Record by doing it dressed as a zombie (eh?!).
I can't remember if I said but I'm going on Friday with Reeta, Katie, Katie's boyfriend Chris, Katie's brother Joey (it is for his 30th birthday and HE DOES NOT KNOW ABOUT IT!), and Joey's friend Ram. Also coincidentally Jenn and her boyfriend are going this weekend, though we probably won't meet up with them, and my brother Adam once he heard of our secret trip arranged to come a couple of days early as well as stay in our hostel so he can hang out with us for our various jaunts. Brill! Or not, depending on the weather situation. I might just set up camp in the Guinness factory and refuse to budge.
I wish I was looking forward to this holiday more but it's just come at the worst time, though I'm hoping it'll do me good. I have to be out of my flat by 7th November and as yet have not managed to find a flatshare to move into.
If I knew it was going to be this hard then I would have chosen to stay in my current place (it is lovely; my gut instinct that told me to move out is not) but I have seen six places and only liked one of them - a great house in Kentish Town. Nice area, nice housemates, nice room with its own freaking terrace aaaaand they chose a boy to move in instead. The other flats/houses I've seen have included:
* A flat in Highbury above a chicken shop on a main road. Noisy, cramped, horrible.
* A flat on a main road in Camden. Guy moving out was taking the furnishings out of his ground floor, road-facing bedroom. Lounge meant for four people could realistically only fit two and a half.
* House the 'wrong' side of Kentish Town. Was unwittingly accompanied by two blatant drug dealers in a car whilst waiting to be let in. Could tell one of the occupants had his own substance abuse problems from his mannerisms and the fact he was concerned that I 'worked in the law.'
* A cramped four-bedroomed house right by Pentonville prison, with one of the rooms occupied by a couple who did not speak English. Just...no.
* A flat about 3 mins away from where I currently am, only whereas I'm on a peaceful tree-lined street this place is ex-social housing, main street, unfurnished and the living room is about 6 foot square. Again, NEIN.
I have two contingency plans and if you would wish to impart wisdom on which to go for I would be more than welcome.
The first would be to go back to Stevenage and stay at my mum's until I find somewhere I know I'm going to be happy to move into. The pros? Weekend bike rides in beautiful Hertfordshire countryside. The cons? Oh, I'd need a few more sets of hands to count them all on, and if that were the case then I could get rich by being a part of a travelling freak show and BUY my own house in London somewhere.
I do not have a car anymore so would be getting a bus to town in the morning and then walking over to the station (25/30 mins). I would then be getting a train to King's Cross (25/30 mins). I would then be walking to St Pancras and getting another train to City (15 mins). On the way home I would be doing the journey home in reverse only from the looks of the timetable there is one bus back at 6 o'clock in the evening and one at 7 o'clock and THAT IS IT! So otherwise that would mean a 45 minute walk instead. Hmm.
My second option is to go and stay with James, I.e. someone I have been DATING. But he has been extremely kind and said I can stay in his decent-sized spare room in Canary Wharf until I get myself sorted. I still think it *could* be the worst idea in the world, and I would definitely want to steer our dateeship into the 'let's just be friends' direction, but he is nice and I'm easy going so it might work, might it not?
The gas bill that arrived on our doorstep for £1693.71 has not helped my stress levels much either. It's okay - it's since been discovered it's an error and we *have* been paying a direct debit since March of last year, but I would rather not have British Gas threating to 'gain forceful entry' into the flat. Yikes.
I would love to go forward two weeks in time and see WTF is going on with my life, because I really have no idea. I just want to fall on my feet and be happy, but it seems there's a massive chasm between wanting something and actually fucking getting it.
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