In the the time it takes for the weather to change in this country, my situation and mood have performed a complete reversal. This sudden high note may have something to do with the fact I now have some sort of stable platform to continue my planning and saving. For once, something I planned actually saw itself through - in this case, it was acquiring a new (and livable) abode. It was a little dicey for a while there, for my newfound friend, flatmate and London newbie Sarah was a little more apprehensive of the chosen residence. Sure the house was terrific, said she, but the neighborhood was a little too far on the 'ghetto' side of the railway tracks.
In a swiftly planned and well-executed operation, myself, the landlord and an unidentified foreigner managed to sway her to the "Yeah, why not - It's only for three months, I can get out of there pretty soon if I have to" camp, of which I belonged, it was the scenic and well-narrated tour of the local area by the landlord that did it, I'm sure. The move-in date is Monday the 21st of April, very soon, so that means that it is time for me to load up the bike once more, hit the road again (for about 4 kilometers) and resettle like a good little nomad.
The rent is higher, but for an extra £15 a week, but I think that uninterrupted electricity, heating (think 'air-conditioning' if in Australia), friendly similar-aged housemates, and a seemingly trustworthy landlord is well worth the extra cost. I've always told myself, and probably others as well, that I could live anywhere whilst on this trip, as long as I kept my eventual goal and dream in my mind. How wrong I was! I'm really a gutless wonder at heart. I can't wait to be in a real house. Here, I shall put it in a way that soothes my conscience:
I appear to thrive when I am either fully attached to general society, or completely autonomous. I crumble when it comes to semi-attachment. Give me the open road, a tent, some visas for far-off countries and I'm in my element. But having a semi-reliable income, a nigh-unlivable residence and an uncertain -foreign- bank account leaves me feeling like I'm on the run from the cops - It could all come crashing down at any moment.
The new house should hopefully give me some much-needed relax-time, because if it doesn't poor old Sarah is in for a rough time, looking after the weird depressive social misfit that convinced her to room-share - but hey, "It's only for three months, you can get out of there pretty soon if you have to".