la petite fwonce dans londres

The Brit has found, quite by accident almost, the most perfect little house.

We've looked at a few places over the last couple of weeks, some nice, some ridiculous, but nothing that makes you want to high five God.

This one is above a bistro, in a village.

Hello, am I living in Fwonce or am I living in London? By village, it's a cluster of roads and houses in a designated area, around a cobbled high street. The 'village' is called The Tonsleys.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph please may no one put in a better offer or get to it first.

It has huge sash windows. Newly done wooden floors. A chrome kitchen. (He cooks, so he should at the very least be excited about this), a dressing room. Which could also be turned into a Man Cave.

It has a period fireplace. Shut the fuck up. I may have a romanticised view, but who the fuck wouldn't?

We're going to view it again tonight.

All I can envisage and daydream endlessly about is the waft of freshly brewed coffee rise from the bistro below, eggs and bakey breakfasts on Saturday morning, a Top Shop close enough to roll to from my bedroom in my pyjamas, the crunch of the The Telegraph Torygraph.

Sigh. Oh Mortgage Man, dost thy upon ye thou mosteth favourable luck!