They are extremely lovely and doing very cool and fun things in the arts and this whole thing is just a dream come true. Of course it took some work to get here.
let me just travel down flat-search memory lane for a moment...
I was on a hunt. Well, first I was kindly taken in my a friend of my Dad's. They were so very lovely to take me in, this helpless American on their stoop. Little did they know they'd be adopted host family for nearly a month.
I searched on all sorts of cleverly named craigslist-equivalents for the right fit. I even checked some BBC classifieds.
The advert said something to the effect of Beautiful Maida Vale flat! Close to Nothing Hill! Quaint, 5 mins to the BBC.
We speak on the phone, me and ms Maida Vale. She sounds lovely and inviting. She gives me directions and we set a date. After wandering in and around tiny little london streets I finally come across Ms. Vale's street, which was locked behind a giant iron gate (welcoming). Behind the gate are a handful of tiny brick buildings (quaint). Ms. Vale said that she'd come out and meet me so I survey the squat buidlings. As the road slopes down I notice this young woman opening a window. I stop and she peeks her head out - she looks about 30s or so. cute, nice bangs. So I wave, she sees me gives me a good lip curl shakes her head and retreats into the darkness.
OK. Not Ms. Vale. three houses down, perched against some sort of garden decore (sans garden) is this tiny little woman with a shock of white hair. Upon seeing me she gives a little wave and I see where this is going.
Ms. Vale is one hot little septuagenarian who likes to pair pastels with her neutrals, so long as they're matched with a pair of comfortable loafers. She gave me a tour of the place. My room was on their first floor in the back just past their piano parlor. You just have to step carefully over the marshmallow-colored wall-to-wall carpet (take your shoes of if you can remember) and get a load of that single bed. Oh yes. There's also a kitchenette all to myself that comes with a counter and a microwave.
Though we had a lovely chat in their little-angel-inspired living room I had to say adieu.
Just because Vale didn't work out didn't mean that Cute Notting Hill flat!!! wouldn't.
So off I went.
I tried to put my guard up a little more. I clearly can't judge british people's ages over the phone. SO when me and Notting Hill chatted I tried to pick up some hints. She mentioned a man but called him 'her guy' so that seemed young. Right? or perhaps a fallback to some sort of 50s jargon that I wasn't familiar with.
So we chatted, set a date and got on with it. I got off the tube and was actually right smack dab in the middle of NH. This was already looking better. Shops and cute little eateries. It was a delight. I was already picturing my Saturday stroll, my coffee on my way to work.
So Ms. Notting Hill wasn't around so i was actually being shown the place by her guy. We texted before meeting, me and the guy. I thought this was a good sign.
But then he emerged from this tiny white-brick home - A slouched figure with a bright red basketball of a head that, curiously, had this collection of long gray hair attached to the bottom back side of it. At this point I couldn't help buut second guess my judgment of character or, at least, apartment ads.
It sort of looked like he'd put a child's fake beard on backward and called it a day. He was more criminal-sketch-drawing-come-to-life than new roomie. But, I thought, I've come all this way...
So I followed him in. Surely this had to be the scene of some sort of kidnapping. But criminal sketch was actually quite nice so long as I didn't look directly at him and the gaping shadowed hole were teeth once lived.
The house smelled of ciggies and cat urine. A plus for for any apartment hunter. The room for rent was up a few flights, through and past all sort of common rooms and such. The room was, actually, quite nice. Sun was cascading in and you would have a view of the this budding tree in their backyard.
Criminal sketch croaked "Oh, I hope you like cats." I smiled. "Strays" he said. "We pick 'em up" he said, as though the action had yet to come to a close. "They're generally afraid of anything on two feet so they tend to hid behind the bed."
I pointed to the single bed in the sunlight-room. 'this bed?' I asked. Yup. It was a statement, really. The cats came with the room. I could feel R sneezing across the Atlantic.
Criminal sketch and I parted ways with me promising that I'd call him as soon as I figured out my finances. OH. I nearly forgot to mention. Included in the rent I couldnt afford was dinner cooked by Criminal Sketch...every night.
But no matter. Because Ms. Vale and Criminal Sketch led me to my new sitch, which is just perfect - this perfect English building and this cute little flat. The roommates are normal young girls who chat and eat with friends and drink wine and hang out. One isn't familiar with 90210, but that can be changed. All in all it is fabs.
So today I moved from this blue door in south west London.
To this blue door in the north west London.
Ta Da!
And I couldn't be happier.
xoxoL
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1 comment:
Looks fab... how long is the commute to work?
Now you can see what London looks like from a 30 something view point
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