da ghe'oh

So. In two, three days I've accomplished the following:

1) Given myself a mammoth Millennium Dome-esque blister on my foot (from walking 10 miles a day, and now have to wear obligatory sock on foot that makes me look like either of two things: retarded; and/or into a trend whereby one wears a sock on one foot)

2) Explored a few council estates. Without meaning to.

So. In a manic quest to find myself a permanent living arrangement, have been house hunting. The Brit has been terribly obligatory in traipsing around with me to view houses, even after I've gone from wanting an apartment the size of Qaddafi's penis, to wanting a house share in a more questionable area, that might be frequented with a bunch of antipodean hooligans.

I respond to an ad in Battersea. (Close to work, financially accessible).

Peas: So it's somewhere down this road. Chick is proper Italian. Like Ant, except directly from Umbria.

Brit: There are a lot of council estates around here babe.

Peas: By this you means these blocks look like Hillbrow blocks.

Brit: Don't know what Hillbrow is, but they are questionably viable blocks filled with women called Tracy, 20 stone, with 8 kids, and earns 25 000 grand a year from the government because she has 10 kids.

Peas:......awesome.

Brit: So what street is it?

Peas: This one. She says something about 'cream outside...brown on the edges...oh Jesus Christ, it's a council estate.

Brit: Haaaaa ok this is funny. Yesterday you were looking in Chelsea.

Peas: Jesus what am I going to tell this woman, I can't live here?!

Brit: I'll be in the pub. Let me know when you re-emerge.

Peas: Shit. 'Hi, this is lovely Great views from the 25th floor, no balcony, thanks so much bye?'

Brit: Exactly.

So. I found a house. An Aussie bird and two Brit guys, in Clapham. The dodgy side. Seven minutes to work, right of Northcote road which is a 'high street,' just...slightly off the wrong side of the tracks.

Just one con in a bagful of pro's.

I, in two works, will be moving out of Earl Court - Chelsea high-brow - and onto the border of a council estate. Not in a council estate, just...next door. But 5 minutes away it's all good, with high streets and shops, pubs and cafes.

And a cool house with a big master bedroom (mine), garden, and cool digs-vibe.

It's going to be ...different. But hopefully fucking heap loads of fun.

My first day at work was interesting. I'm absorbing everything around me, eating sushi or lunch and wearing a sock on my right foot.

It's awesome. Even if on one serious learning curve.