Tuesday, December 08, 2009

I'm Home

Well, I finally have a postcode. Which means I officially have a home. Just like East 17 were singing about all those years ago, I am a West End Girl.. east end boys in a dead end world, East End Boys and West End Girls. West. End. Girls. deh neh neh neh.

One thing that is fairly prevalent when you are searching for a house in London, is the underlying inner racist that resides inside you (that you probably weren't aware existed), when you decide which ethnic group you want to be surrounded by. Shepherds Bush and Clapham are rife with Australians, so I definitely did not want to live there. And it all comes down to who you would rather be mugged by, the Brick Lane Indians in the East Side, or the Jerk Chicken loving Caribbeans in the West Side. Personally, I would rather be mugged by a Jamaican. I've always wanted to be friends with some Rastas who can take me under their wing and teach me how to wear gold jewellery and giant sneakers. Plus I love the soothing percussion of a steel drum band.

I have to say, moving 17,000 km's across the world really doesn't feel any different from moving a suburb away in Sydney, when you accidentally destroy a shelving unit in London, you still need to bang nails into the wall. Accidents are a global phenomenon.

My new apartment is in Ladbroke Grove, one street parallel from Portobello Road, which will come in handy on saturday afternoons when I go and haggle with a fruiterer for a £1 box of produce. mmmm. We have high ceilings, wood floors, heated towel rack, and on sunday night we discovered our Mystery Room.

When our apartment was advertised it said 1 Bedroom + Study.. well there was no apparent study when we inspected the place, unless the they were counting our walk in wardrobe an extra room?? So we just decided that whoever wrote the ad was clearly too busy smoking crack and eating jerk chicken and making up real estate lies.

However... we had 2 extra keys on our keyring. What were the keys for?? we didn't know.. we stuck them in every key-hole available and they didn't do anything. Maybe they were special Annoying Keys, designed to do your head in and stay up all night wandering what the keys do and what magical door they open.

Well we discovered which door they open... on our floors landing there was this door. We thought it might have been another apartment, or a switchboard room, so we tried out our Annoying Keys and lo and behold.. our Study!!!!!

A whole new room complete with shelving, electric sockets, a window with a view of the gorgeous church across the road.. What the hell?? what are we supposed to do with this room? It would be fairly inconvenient to sleep in there considering you'd need to unlock the main apartment door to get inside to use the bathroom or kitchen. What do you do with a room like this??

I suppose if you had people stay over they could stay in the Mystery Room and pee out the window. or you could rent it out to a family of illegal immigrants (again, you gotta sort out your own pee situation) At any rate - it is now our room of 'where anything ugly goes' - ie: suitcases (responsible for said Shelving Disaster) ugly chairs/ugly tables.. but the potential is endless.

*cocktail party room
* dead body room
*drug addict room
*coats, bags, and shoes room
*tiny rave room
*Lenny's Apartment

All we have to do now is get acquainted with our area, loads of cool looking pubs and bars, restaurants and clothes shopping. I think I will probably explode of excitement and go broke over the coming months.

And FYI to any whinging londoner who gives me shit about moving to London from Sydney .. I am really sick of this shtick I get from people about moving here, 'why would you leave sydney??' umm because Sydney is boring and London is exciting... There are more important things in life than a Beach. Beach Shmeach. They go on about how London is horrible and grey all year round.. Example:

Grey all year round huh?? that looks like a pretty fabulous blue sky to me. Just The Monument outside the building I am working in at the moment. That's pretty inspiring. More so than walking past the Matrix Fountain in Martin Place every goddamn morning.

Bondi Beach can kiss my ass, anyone who is stupid enough to go there deserves to stand in the copious amounts of dog poo left on the street to dry, and slide around in the spew from the drunk backpackers, and mingle with piles of festering garbage. .. or you could go to Europe for a quick Mediterranean getaway. but sure I can see how Bondi would be an equal comparison (not)

Weather isn't everything. If you're miserable in London, chances are you'll be miserable anywhere. Ladbroke Grove Forever. Bondi Never.

That's my two pence.

5 comments:

Style Seduction said...

I say make it Lennys room.

suze2000 said...

Definitely a place to stash your dead bodies. They have a habit of piling up you know.

And you wait - London will be grey, December's not the month for it - London waits until after the pretty lights of Xmas are gone to make itself the most miserable place on the planet. Or so I'm told. I'm never there in Jan/Feb as I'm here where it's warm. :)

Melbourne put on its first grey winter since I moved this year. I was not impressed. :P

tropical times said...

WUUHUU go rach, visiting parents, mothers in law room, room with a view count me in!!with the junk , pale blue sofa bed, dvd/tv, wee bar fridge.... who needs to pee anyway!!

Jewels Diva said...

So, it sounds like you're loving london then.

Epskee said...

Bondi? HUMPF!

Easily Oz's WORST freaking beach.

Easily.

Would much rather sloshing through the snow in old london town!