I collected the keys to my flat the week after the sale was complete, and things have not exactly gone smoothly since then. In fact, I’ve only spent a combined total of about seven nights in my flat in the past four weeks or so.
Partly because I didn’t have the internet for over a week after I moved in, and I need it for work. And partly because I am getting the flat redecorated.
The wallpaper in the living room was something I wanted to replace as soon as possible, comprising an odd pattern mixing of giant brown leaves and white feathers. Then there was the weird plastic cladding stuff in the bedroom that looked like it had escaped from the bathroom of a budget hotel. And the ceiling was covered in polystyrene tiles, which it turns out are actually pretty flammable. Fortunately, I didn’t find that out the hard way.
The works are being overseen by my old comedy mate Nigel, who also runs a painter and decorator business. He’s fitting the work in around his other jobs, meaning I can probably get the work done sooner and for a cheaper price, only taking slightly longer than if it was all done in one go. I’ve decided I also want to get some acoustic soundproof panels installed, and it makes sense to do it all in one go.
Anyway, back to move-in day. I collected the keys on a Saturday and loaded up my car from back home with some essentials – a couple of chairs, a foldable table, and various things for the kitchen. Due to the redecoration, there’s little point in moving in too much stuff early on, as it’ll only need moving around when work is underway. Consequently, I’ve been sleeping on an airbed until the works are complete.
Shortly after opening the front door for the first time of the property I am now the owner of (I’m still getting used to this newfound status ), I noticed the electricity wasn’t working. In fact, for the first 48 hours, I had no electricity at all. This is because there was no balance on the meter when I moved in, and the energy company’s phone lines were closed at the weekends. As my bathroom has no windows, I had to try and angle the glass on the inner door to reflect to send a bit of light in there for what were essentially cold baths in the dark for a couple of nights. The cold reality of property ownership.
As I had no electricity, I went to my old haunt of the Rose and Crown in Walthamstow to charge my phone. I can get there in about 20 minutes on the trains and need little excuse to go there at the best of times. It did the job in terms of phone charging and alcohol consumption. The next day, I realised that there was in fact a plug socket right outside my front door.
I eventually got the electricity connected on the Monday afternoon, but there was more to come.
That evening, I went to see a band called The Warning, who I honestly think are going to be huge very soon. They have so much energy, are really skilled musicians, and have some great tunes. It was a great gig. The plan was to go back home the next day to pack up some more stuff and work from home-home for the rest of the week. I’d return to London on Friday evening, as I was going to see Pulp the next day in Finsbury Park. I’d had the following week booked off as leave, coinciding with my birthday. I’d received an early gift, but it wasn’t one I wanted.
On the Friday afternoon, a familiar sore throat started. Then symptoms worsened over the next 12 hours or so, I felt increasingly groggy with the sneezing beginning followed by that horrendous cough that burns the inside of the chest. This was my second encounter with Covid-19. I must have got the infection at the gig I’d been to.
As a precaution, I went to the nearest DIY shop to buy some sanding masks. I was weighing up whether or not to go and see Pulp. I was feeling pretty awful. But I also knew I wouldn’t get many chances to see one of my favourite bands again, as I don’t know if they’ll do many more tours. I had a ticket for their show in Dublin, although didn’t end up going due to the costs involved with buying a flat that I hadn’t factored in when I bought the tickets towards the end of last year.
In fact, I have established an unfortunate pattern this year of buying a ticket for a gig, but not actually going. I’ve missed three music gigs so far this year for varying reasons.
Anyway, I made the late call to go to see Pulp. Despite it being outside, I decided to mask up just to avoid potentially spreading my germs. I’m glad I did go because they were amazing. Fortunately, the infection wasn’t as bad and didn’t last as long as the first time (that I do remember). I am now Covid-free and managed to get a ticket to see Pulp again this weekend when I’ll be staying in a partially redecorated flat. But it’s not above a shop and I definitely can’t call my dad to stop it all.
I collected the keys to my flat the week after the sale was complete, and things have not exactly gone smoothly since then. In fact, I’ve only spent a combined total of about seven nights in my flat in the past four weeks or so.
Partly because I didn’t have the internet for over a week after I moved in, and I need it for work. And partly because I am getting the flat redecorated.
The wallpaper in the living room was something I wanted to replace as soon as possible, comprising an odd pattern mixing of giant brown leaves and white feathers. Then there was the weird plastic cladding stuff in the bedroom that looked like it had escaped from the bathroom of a budget hotel. And the ceiling was covered in polystyrene tiles, which it turns out are actually pretty flammable. Fortunately, I didn’t find that out the hard way.
The works are being overseen by my old comedy mate Nigel, who also runs a painter and decorator business. He’s fitting the work in around his other jobs, meaning I can probably get the work done sooner and for a cheaper price, only taking slightly longer than if it was all done in one go. I’ve decided I also want to get some acoustic soundproof panels installed, and it makes sense to do it all in one go.
Anyway, back to move-in day. I collected the keys on a Saturday and loaded up my car from back home with some essentials – a couple of chairs, a foldable table, and various things for the kitchen. Due to the redecoration, there’s little point in moving in too much stuff early on, as it’ll only need moving around when work is underway. Consequently, I’ve been sleeping on an airbed until the works are complete.
Shortly after opening the front door for the first time of the property I am now the owner of (I’m still getting used to this newfound status ), I noticed the electricity wasn’t working. In fact, for the first 48 hours, I had no electricity at all. This is because there was no balance on the meter when I moved in, and the energy company’s phone lines were closed at the weekends. As my bathroom has no windows, I had to try and angle the glass on the inner door to reflect to send a bit of light in there for what were essentially cold baths in the dark for a couple of nights. The cold reality of property ownership.
As I had no electricity, I went to my old haunt of the Rose and Crown in Walthamstow to charge my phone. I can get there in about 20 minutes on the trains and need little excuse to go there at the best of times. It did the job in terms of phone charging and alcohol consumption. The next day, I realised that there was in fact a plug socket right outside my front door.
I eventually got the electricity connected on the Monday afternoon, but there was more to come.
That evening, I went to see a band called The Warning, who I honestly think are going to be huge very soon. They have so much energy, are really skilled musicians, and have some great tunes. It was a great gig. The plan was to go back home the next day to pack up some more stuff and work from home-home for the rest of the week. I’d return to London on Friday evening, as I was going to see Pulp the next day in Finsbury Park. I’d had the following week booked off as leave, coinciding with my birthday. I’d received an early gift, but it wasn’t one I wanted.
On the Friday afternoon, a familiar sore throat started. Then symptoms worsened over the next 12 hours or so, I felt increasingly groggy with the sneezing beginning followed by that horrendous cough that burns the inside of the chest. This was my second encounter with Covid-19. I must have got the infection at the gig I’d been to.
As a precaution, I went to the nearest DIY shop to buy some sanding masks. I was weighing up whether or not to go and see Pulp. I was feeling pretty awful. But I also knew I wouldn’t get many chances to see one of my favourite bands again, as I don’t know if they’ll do many more tours. I had a ticket for their show in Dublin, although didn’t end up going due to the costs involved with buying a flat that I hadn’t factored in when I bought the tickets towards the end of last year.
In fact, I have established an unfortunate pattern this year of buying a ticket for a gig, but not actually going. I’ve missed three gigs this year so far for varying reasons.
Anyway, I made the late call to go to see Pulp. Despite it being outside, I decided to mask up just to avoid potentially spreading my germs. I’m glad I did go because they were amazing. Fortunately, the infection wasn’t as bad and didn’t last as long as the first time (that I do remember). I am now Covid-free and managed to get a ticket to see Pulp again this weekend when I’ll be staying in a partially redecorated flat. But it’s not above a shop and I definitely can’t call my dad to stop it all.