House Hunting - London

I have just realized that this is going to be my last post from the land of the Scotch. The fact that these are the slog overs hasn't really sunk in. Speaking if which, I should really start my packing. Have been procrastinating about it for quite a few days now. I still remember the day I was woken up by a call from my future employer offering me a job. Well, in another week's time I should refer to them as my current employer. OK, enough of the unwanted blabber.

A couple of friends had told me their stories about finding a house in London, some taking weeks and some even months. Against all those words of wisdom, I booked an overnight bus to London last week and hoped my stay in London wouldn't last for more than 2 days. I hate bus journeys as I always end up with with a bad back and a sore neck along at the end of a sleepless night. Just when I thought my frequent travel from Glasgow to Edinburgh had seasoned me for this ultimate test, I didn't take much time to realize that I had overestimated by abilities. 

Turned my lappy on and watched a movie called as Buried. The whole movie is shot inside a coffin and as if the seats and the cramped space weren't making me feel claustrophobic enough, the movie surely pushed it. Its almost 2 AM and the driver has made a routine stop. An old lady sitting right behind me starts fiddling with a highly noisy packet of crisps. She finally opens it and slowly takes a bite of one of those crispy stuffs. And this happens over and over again for about half an hour. The high pitched crunchy sound has already irritated me to the core. I somehow try to go back to sleep and have already started dreaming about all possible torture movies and with the old lady playing an important role in all of them. Damnnnnn.

Its almost 4AM now and I realize that the people sitting in front of me haven't switched their lights off. I peep and see two hot girls busy reading and engrossed in some magazine. A closer look reveals that the magazine is some kind of kinky sex magazine full of BDSM stuff. Well I can surely understand people having a fetish for it but I couldn't imagine that happening throughout the night and that too in a bus where all you can hear are variety of snores and disgusting farts. Oh crap, can't even open the windows here.

I finally reach London and it feels worse than a bad hangover. I head off to view a few places. By afternoon I've already started pitying some of the places that I've seen. Some of the studios are hardly 8 X 10 and everything including a bed, kitchen and a bathroom are cramped into that space. I'm in no way trying to act cheap but all these places cost around 700 quid a month excluding bills and taxes. I have no idea why people don't give a shit about the place where you shit in this country. Many houses have shared bathrooms and some of the private ones make the shit retract itself into your body.

The story continues into the second day and I finally find a house with a decent sized living room and a bedroom and a private bathroom with a separate kitchen. But the problem is, its unfurnished but then again after the places I've seen for the past 2 days, this house feels like a luxury suite. With just about 6 months to go for me to enter a new phase in my life, I could see this place working for us in the long term. Even though its a bit hot on my wallet, I can surely look beyond that. Paid the holding deposit and now its just some formalities to get over with.

P.S : I'm surely going to miss Glasgow and the whole of Scotland but just like Arny says, "I'll be back".

Tweet