Tuesday, 15 January 2013

The Italian lands.....

I've literally not had the time to take my oil of evening primrose recently but after being named and shamed by the lovely Claire Brunton ( see pic) about my terrible unperseverance in updating i squeezed a few mins in to tap out a few words.

So where did i leave it? Ah yes, there i was sitting all lonesome, minus my italian beau. After what felt like the longest xmas and New year, January 4th was on the doorstep and his flight was landing in the evening.

Cue Flu. Need i say more? I'm sure you can imagine a red nosed, floppy armed, croaky me pushing myself to the airport to meet him. He had tried to insist on my staying indoors while he figured out his journey into london but i couldn't. If only that i had booked his trains ticket back and needed to be there to collect it with my card!!.

But we also have a thing with airports now, saying goodbye and saying hello are hopefully a thing of the past. It's lucky that you don't normally run into people you know at the airport on a regular basis....they may think i look like a total drip all the time!

So he's here! He arrived with bags strapped on his back and front, a little frazzled from the flight full of screaming kids, but he had arrived and through my sniveling nose and a promise guaranteed flu infection we shared a kiss. We crashed at my cousins place until he came back from holiday and thus begun the mission to find us a place

One of the reasons I love him so much is that he continues to freely admit that women are stronger than men. (a way to butter me up maybe?) but that weekend I did us proud by arranging us to see numerous potential rental houses/studios and somewhow dragging myself out of bed for it all.

But as luck would have it, our very first viewing of the day was also our last. After having scoured the internet for nearly 4 weeks, I could tell a peach when i saw it. All i will say is that we are in the process of submitting references and proving our means to pay the rent......and that it's in Islington (oh holy grail of an area to live). I won't say anymore because of the superstition that resides inside. I'm a superstitious old broad.

For the moment we are crashing in my bosses flat, in the living room, on an airbed. It's a shared house and you never want to outstay your welcome, so we try to be clean, quiet and keep the mountain of our belongings out of the way. We are lucky they are so easygoing!

I've been back at work a month now (oh the days of sitting in the sun.....how did they go so fast!) and
he started his brand new job for a gaming company in London last week. Maybe with his first week under his belt some of the culture shock is starting to subside.  ''No Bidets?'' ''why does the coffee has all this water in it?!'' ''Minchia ru friddu!'' (fuck, it's freezing!)

But so far he loves baked beans, brick lane and the tube. Go figure?

After a recent conversation about moving house I sat down and mentally totted up how many moves i've made so far. How many times i've packed up, throw out the old, deliberate over whether it's essential or not and generally sleep in different places. (I could cry for some things that have been given up or lost).

I counted 14 different places. In about 11 years. Compare this with my sister whose moved twice. Whoa!

I know he has a similar story to mine, except his sounds a little more exciting with packing all his stuff on a motorbike and zooming off into the distance. Yet mine always seemed to be set with winter as a backdrop, freezing cold and selecting jumpers over anything else.

No wonder both of us are silently praying (well...desperately praying) for this place to go through. A space to call our own and some security would finally be nice. A place for books, herb pots, comfy cushions/blankets, one italian coffee pot and some warmth.

So keep all fingers and toes crossed for us!

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