The Move

Sorry it’s been a while since I last updated this site but I have had quite a hectic week and never really had the time to get around to writing. Currently, I am in London, having just moved back as my French tourist visa is due to expire soon. I literally have only slept one night in the new flat, but it feels good to be back in the UK.

Now I am going to prattle on a bit about what I’ve been up to in the lead up to the move. I won’t bore you too much with the details, like what type of cement my girlfriend and I used to fix the tiles in the living room, but I will do my best to keep you well informed whilst attempting to be snappy and to the point.

Since my last post, I have been up to quite a bit and it all started with applying for a flatshare in Kentish Town and booking my Eurostar ticket for London. Landing the flat with a couple of my girlfriend’s friends was a great relief but, once my train tickets were booked, the move suddenly became real and scarily close. As it would turn out, due to an agreement we had to make with the letting agent, I would be moving-in in a little over a week, on the 13th. With the move on the horizon, my girlfriend and I set about doing what any sane person does when they realise they’re about to make a big change in their lives and that is put off thinking about it as much as we can. Unfortunately this still turns out to be quite a bit seeing as the big change was only a week away. Whenever we could, between fretting over the state of our current flat, finding someone new to take our room, repairing broken tiles in the living room, negotiating terms in our new flat’s contract, arguing with the new letting agent, fixing the kitchen bench, fixing the lounge room light switch and packing all of my things frantically into suitcases, we spent our time visiting cafes and relaxing. It was beautiful.

Once a lot of the stressful moving preparation was done, my girlfriend and I took a breather and escaped back into the country again at my girlfriend’s parent’s place in Livarot, Normandy. The place was looking quite beautiful after all the work we’d done on it a couple of weeks before and spring was just starting to show its first signs with a few leaves and blossom appearing on the surrounding trees. It felt really good to step of the train in Caen and breathe, for a second, air that was not as polluted as Paris, but it felt even better to step out of the car in Livarot and breathe the perfume of new flowers, blossom and fresh green grass. For a moment most of our stresses were forgotten.

We spent the first day in Livarot more-or-less relaxing and helping a tiny bit with the house work. It was decent weather that day, between occasional light showers of rain, and the only thing that really spoiled the mood was my need to sign the contract on the new flat and therefore full committing to where we were going to be living in London without actually having seen the place for real. It was a bit stressful, but the selling point on the flat for me was its location on Prince of Wales road, near the Camden Brewery. As far as I was concerned, I wasn’t too bothered by the potential state of the place if I knew I could walk to Camden in less than ten minutes and catch three different types of public transport in less than five.

The next day was absolutely blissful as the sun finally came out and suddenly heated everything to something that felt like summer to us almost. I basically became a Big Lazy and lay about playing my guitar or reading for most of the day, but when that got boring I did get off my arse for a little bit to help clean up some wood that had been cut from a tree overhanging a boundary fence. I even got the shirt off too, which is absolutely rare around this time of year in Northern France. Once all the work was done for the day, we built a small bonfire in the back yard and sat about near the blossoming trees and enjoyed the sunset with a few beers and a couple of glasses of bubbly. It was a full moon that night as well, so everything looked absolutely serine in the dull glow of the sky. As a result, we decided to have our roast dinner outside by the fire. I felt especially privileged as it was my birthday the next day and my girlfriend had made me a chocolate brownie cheesecake I we were going to have later that night in celebration. It was an absolutely decadent cake and so rich that when it was eventually served I barely could eat one slice. This almost got interpreted as me not liking the cake, but that soon got cleared up as I’ve been eating what’s left of it practically for breakfast, lunch and tea. In fact, as I arrived at the new flat late last night and didn’t have time for food, the cake was my dinner.

Our last day in Normandy was my birthday and in celebration we went to one of Europe’s biggest World War Two museums in Caen. Not the most cheery of birthday celebrations but I have always wanted to see some of the history of the war in Normandy and, seeing as I was moving back to London the next day, my birthday was as good a time as any. The museum was absolutely breath taking and has been organised extremely well, so well, in fact, that my mood became slowly melancholic and uneasy as we moved through an actual bunker used by one of the German generals, to pre WWII history, to the holocaust  and on until the landings on Normandy beach. There was so much information and gritty detail, it was a sensory overload. They had sad music playing about the place, recordings of bombs going off with gunfire in the distance, films playing troops running across fields and dodging shellfire, pictures of starving Jewish people, uniforms used by actual nurses and soldiers from both the axis and the allies, it was all quite overwhelming and, overall, a fairly cheery birthday... (sarcasm). I spent the rest of the evening on the trip back to Paris reflecting on how lucky I am to be alive in a time when I don’t have to worry about sacrificing my life for my country.

Yes, it was a very odd feeling having my birthday in such an eerie and breathtaking museum but the mood soon passed as the next day came and I found myself packing the last of my things and prepping to get on the Eurostar that night. To take my mind off leaving my girlfriend for the next couple weeks (as she would be coming later with the rest of our stuff in a car), we both set out for a nice walk about Paris and a coffee at a cafe south of the Seine. Along the way, we stopped at Notre Dame and went inside for quick peek as we’d only recently figured out it was free to do so. It is one hell of an impressive cathedral. The coloured glass is absolutely beautiful as it shines in the sun and the roof just towers miles above you in its gothic-like way. Afterwards we dawdled about the place until we became impossibly hungry and finally decided on a cafe to stop at. Eventually we caught the bus home and I said my farewells to the flat at rue de la Corderie and to my girlfriend’s flatmate. Lugging a monstrously heavy bag down the steps and onto the street, my girlfriend and I walked all of my bags and my guitar up to Gare du Nord where we struggled to navigate my things up to the platform.

I hate goodbyes , and always insist on calling them “see you laters”, so I said see you later to Paris after giving my girlfriend a kiss and disappearing through customs, where I was met by yet another customs official who was surprised that I have UK ancestry.

Overall it has been a week and a bit of many ups and downs but now I am finally back in the roaring city of London, where I can understand the language. You have no idea how much relief it is to simply be able to overhear someone’s conversation on the bus and actually not have it sound like noises and complete gibberish. The new flat is nice, it’s small but cosy, the new room is fairly big and we have a small garden out the back. Unfortunately however I have to go to the letting agents today and complain about the blinds not working and all the wardrobes being an a state of wobbliness that threatens to flatten you whenever you reach to grab your jacket. Wish me luck as I step out now to sign the inventory list of the flat.

I hope this post, despite being long, has caught you up sufficiently on my current affairs and, until next time, think about how lucky you are to be alive in a time where you don’t have to worry about sacrificing your life for your country. To all of those who have died or served in silly and unnecessary wars across the world, I thank you.