Out!

I am at last out of that terrible house "share". I had set up a handbag to drop off the handle of the door on the inside should anyone enter my room when I wasn't there, and came back one day to find it had dropped. He had been in my room. Having been having severe difficulty getting my head round the fact I was going to have to move, all difficulty suddenly dropped away and within 2 hours I had organised storage and van and 2 extra friends to help, plus Sammy and Pavel the van man himself, whom I know through Jonny Vantastic and would HIGHLY recommend. After an incredibly smooth move (thanks boys) that lasted from 7am until 9.45, I found myself in the local cafe treating everyone to breakfast, and surprisingly calm. I spent the rest of the day gleefully nesting round at Sam's, determined to make a good impression on his parents by doing washing, cleaning, tidying, and generally making myself useful. I am in a safe place. I have a one year savings plan. House prices are going down. It could even turn out good. And now I'm off to camp in a soggy field with my other friends.

"I left my crutch in John Lewis" is probably not a promising hit.

Evidently I'm walking better if I can just swan out without it. I can't concentrate today- at all. I've just gone to housing hell in my mind, endless waiting for letters and pressure and ever time the text beep goes on my phone I think its the flatmate trying to manipulate me in some new way. Its a bit like being stalked. And leaving my room full of all my lovely things I've collected over the years and my beautiful clothes and my bears and scarves and beads and books for any old stranger to walk into feels a bit like leaving my knickers off and doing a handstand in Oxford Street. My computer is there too, and my lovely china in the kitchen cupboard. I don't even want him to BREATHE NEAR my belongings let alone leave them in that place. I've promised all my friends family and colleagues not to go there on my own in case he turns violent, which also leaves me trapped: unable to pop in for post and for odd beads I want etc.
I can't see a happy ending to this at the moment, not at all.

Sofa hell and solicitor heaven.

I've been at my new place for 8 weeks now. Paid deposit in cash, paid first months rent by cheque.
The young lady with whom I had thought I was going to live has been forced to leave by the man whom I thought was moving out- and as soon as she left all hell broke loose. I provided a large squishy sofa and he demanded that I move it out immediately becasue he didn't like the pattern despite sanctioning its arrival and when I revealed I've nowhere else to put it (other than freecycle it, which I don't want to do) he flew into a temper and insisted that one of us leave.

I'm extremely grateful for such lovely friends. A handwritten note was produced 4 days ago, asking me to quit the property 7 days after the sofa argument and a similar argument in which he stated and remained completely convinced that the window which I had left open an inch with keys (not door keys) dangling from the handle was the sole cause of a person arriving late at might to enquire after a woman who used to live in the house. He thought the person was a burglar but somehow neglected to call the police.

Its revealed that the other housemate he forced to leave was his wife. Its revealed by her that he behaved in an ungentlemanly way towards her in the past. I can't put more in my blog because its public. Solicitors letters have been provided by kind solicitor friend from a very good property law firm and a queue of people who want to help me is forming rapidly.
The upshot of all this is that I'm being illegally evicted and will lose my home, however. But I hope the gentleman involved will learn that he cannot be a selfish bully, or act unlawfully, without consequences. on top of all this, the bank have messed up my rent payment which makes me look like some kind of freeloading lowlife which I'm not. Stress all round!

I need to remember to breathe. next time I blog, like this lovely lady, I'll be giving something good away to one of my readers... I know you're out there....

casting the cast off

Its OFF!! an unfamiliar looking skinny, flaky, hairy pale leg has emerged from its purple prison into the light. An extremely scary circular saw type item on the end of a hose was used to get it off. And I didn't bring the other shoe to the hospital so I went home with one foot bare. The feeling of air over my right leg has never been so- fresh. The flaking skin really is a sight to behold, and I think I can say without disgusting too many people that I'm REALLY looking forward to peeling it all off before the longest bath ever when I get home from work!

Closing the book in tiny ways

Well this past weekend has been eventful in lots of tiny ways. Keith Leech has published a new book about Hastings Jack in the Green which means that I will now be able to give my Mother a very full explanation indeed of what I get up to every May which may or may not satisfy her thirst for exact fact.
I opened the book and saw a ten year old photograph of someone, who in utter coincidence at the moment of that photo, was wearing a ring of mine. I finally realised then, that I have closed the cover/door/cut of a long saga thats been going on in my life for ages. I felt a bit like Martha when she gets over the Doctor finally, if you know what I mean. This particular person would breeze in and out of my consciousness (but not in a Tardis) every so often ever since I met them in a disastrous thunderclap of doomed weekend romance some ten years ago. And I am over it. That was then and this is now.
The other tiny thing that has happened is that I've just arrived home to find the sofa has shrunk and everything has been moved about as one of my housemates moved out over the weekend. I've been at Sam's so have not been party to the choosing of the new sofa which is less like a sofa and more like a largish chair. Its leather and its square, and its too small to lie down on, three things which a sofa should NEVER be. It is, in fact, tiny. I'm plotting a freecycle-related miracle: unexpectedly a large soft and battered sofa will shortly appear next to it, unless I'm very much mistaken.
I can now take tiny steps with my cast on. And it only hurts a tiny bit, too!