armyofsnails: (wife)
I'm standing in the middle of my living room, alone, popping party poppers and experiencing mixed feelings.

I'm surrounded by packed boxes and various other things I apparently own (Brompton bike, 1970s globe shaped drinks cabinet, skull-shaped walking stick... ??). Party of one to celebrate the end of an era.

I'm out of Crouch end next Saturday, moving in with a partner (one of them, A) only for the second time in my life. I'm a homeowner for the first time. I'm leaving behind this red-and-white witch's house, which I shared with my dearest friend of 15 years, Mr B aka Ginger Menace, my one and only flatmate.

Party poppers smell quite nice. The boxes and my Brompton bike are now covered in confetti.

Normality

Aug. 3rd, 2014 09:45 am
armyofsnails: (time snail)
The most normal life events become so exciting when you are in the midst of them. After almost a year of hard work, many weekends and evenings of house hunting, paperwork filling and exhausting discussions, I have finally bought a house with the people I love and adore. It's wonderful, beautiful and... very expensive. Buying a property in the midst of London's housing bubble has been utter insanity. We have visited around a hundred houses, fought crowds to get into each one of them, bid on fifteen or so places but kept being rejected, have been gazumped twice, and overbid a scary amount of money on the place we finally got, just to make sure we are even considered for it. After all this, to have the place almost feels like a miracle.

It's a large Victorian (1880s) semi-detached house in east London, of brick and timber construction. There is a big garden with a WWII bunker in the middle of it, buried under a thick blanket of grass (I think a family of rabbits might live inside). The house even has a cellar, although it's very badly built, unventilated and full of moisture and mold. The kitchen is enormous. The house is beautiful, but with tatty interior decor and will need a lot of work, some of which is more than cosmetic. To add pique, its previous owner is a charity, and for the past 35 years (since the year of my birth) it has been used as a shelter for women escaping domestic violence. I'm moving in two weeks' time. Couldn't be fucking happier.

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armyofsnails

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