I don't think I've mentioned this, yet, but Julie and I have been having some really weir experiences, since we moved in. Aside from screwing [flat-pack furniture] an awful lot.

Basically, my bedroom door opens itself. I have witnessed this. Julie has witnessed this. Julie's mum has witnessed this. All of a sudden it will just pop open. Quite often, I'm woken to it opening, as if someone is coming in to get me up in the morning.

Now, I get up before Julie, and many times she has still been asleep when it occured. Other times, like the first time and tonight, we have both been laying on our beds in our respective rooms.

Today, unusually, my bedroom window is open. Usually when this happens, all the windows are closed. We've always assumed it was a weird Old House Thing. Y'know: someone steps on a floorboard, or whatever. Except, as I said - it happens when we're motionless and we haven't been able to replicate it by moving around the house.

Well. JUST NOW, while we were both in our rooms, laying down on our beds, we both DISTINCTLY HEARD footsteps - which sounded like they were coming up the stairs to me, and walking across the ceiling to Julie - and then my door burst open again.

:| I cannot explain this.

We've tried ruling out the footsteps we've been hearing as being our neighbours, but this is a pretty weird coincidence. There was no breeze from my window, as it's a pretty still night, here, and even so it happens when the window is closed.

I'm starting to think we're sharing with someone else...

So, you might know that Julie and I are getting a place together, in the next couple of months - right now, it's looking like it will almost certainly be in Brighton (or Hove, if we have to) so fredtheguava ultimately won! (Rachael, if you're interested on taking us up on the offer let us know, because we'll be looking at apartments really soon; it's cool if you don't want to, but it's better to know before we get somewhere) - and we've spent this evening planning how to furnish it (because to be honest, the good apartments are all empty possessions).

I've decided I want a kind of girly (! - I know! Girly! Me!) shabby chic bedroom, and I just bought the first item for it off eBay.



How cute is that throw? ♥ I'm going to get a basic wooden bed and worry about the rest as we go on. As long as I have somewhere decent to sleep, the living room is a bigger priority. We're looking at green and chocolate for that, and at getting a fancy, green patterned seat and a plain sofa made by a Welsh company. I'm pretty sure they made my mum's old sofa and it was fine, and really cheap.

We have plans. And payouts coming to us to buy it with. It's looking good.

But yes. It's all getting quite real.

So, I have to vote in the London elections, today.

It's kind of a trek to the polling station.

( Look )

I think I'd better pack some rations, just in case I get lost.

So, aside from our existing black cat, Pinot (as in Noir) we seem to have adopted a kitten, also black, who we have just named...

...Sabbath.


Oh, we're so funny.

Back home. Sadly.

Want to go back.

Anyone want to have Tapas in Covent Garden tomorrow? Julie will be there.

EPIC FAIL.


A couple of days ago, I failed to notice a candle melting off my altar and all over my landlord's carpet. I managed to get most of it up, but resigned myself to having to move the furniture before I eventually move out.

However, tonight I noticed that above the altar was a grey smoke makr up the wall. It was subtle. It's been there for days and I haven't noticed, but I thought, 'I'll just take a cloth and rub it off'. However. My room is magnolia painted over wallpaper and has not resulted in a solid, shiny surface like it has in the kitchen. So now I have a very visible grey smudge over my altar instead.

EPIC. FAIL.

I'm home. I miss Chicago. I miss the beach and the lake and intermittently exchanging, "I love Warchief. He's so fucking awesome..." with Liberty.

I miss AIR CONDITIONING and I miss slurpees.

And I'm hungry.

I am so angry.

For those of you unfamiliar with this story, I have an alcoholic housemate (one of four) called Mapie. Mapie has no concept of other people. She would come and sit next to me when I was signed off work with chest infections it later turned out were not related to asthma (which they now don't believe I have) but due to an allergy to cigarette smoke, and say "You have a bad cough" and then light up. She smoked in the house constantly. I would always say that it was okay, because I didn't want to make her uncomfortable - and because she'd already be lighting her cigarettes as she asked.

Mapie has also been guilty of afternoon barbecues that have started on Saturday morning and ended Monday evening. She has an abundance of unemployed friends - as she herself is, which also annoys me as she's not even English, but French - and hasn't worked for a number of years. She gets her rent paid, her council tax, money for amenities and to live on - and she can afford to go out drinking every night - why would she bother getting a job?

Anyway, we have a room to rent, here from 1 September, and I mentioned to Elise that if things got desperate maybe she should move in there for a while - ironically, as I thought things had improved in the house. It wasn't final, and it would obviously have been down to the other three to agree that she was suitable. I mentioned this to Mapie, earlier, and she sniffed and told me she had already spoken to her friend Claudine, who might be interested.

Claudine is a French-Canadian lady who helped Mapie bring some drug dealers into the house about a year ago; drug dealers who subsequently threatened to beat up Gabriel - in his own home. He was terrified, when I came home. I think the police had been around, if I remember correctly.

Tonight, she came in drunk and demanded to watch TV, and I asked - very carefully and politely - if she could wait just forty-five minutes so I could watch the end of an episode of Killer Instinct that Joe May was in. She wanted to watch Eastenders, about which when she said to me earlier, "Typical for my friends to call when I want to watch Eastenders!" I had said, "Do you want to watch it now? I don't mind - I can go in my room if you want..." as we have a sort of view-on-demand package for some programs. She said no.

Anyway - my polite refusal of her demand turned into the usual self-righteous rant she drags out on the very, very rare occasions I say 'no' to her. 'WAH WAH WAH, we shouldn't have a TV in the living room because I never get to watch it/WAH WAH WAH, you are always in the living room'

Firstly, yes, she does. Every day when I come home it is on the Francophone channel. If she doesn't watch it during all those hours when she is at home and I'm working, that isn't my problem. If she wanted to watch it most evenings, all she would have to do is say so, or come and sit down. It's just unfortunate that tonight was the one night when there was something on I really needed to watch for TCO as we've been doing reviews for his projects.

Secondly, it's a communal sitting room. If I want to sit there, shouldn't that be okay at any time? I'm not stopping anyone else coming in, just by being there. I even encourage people - usually Andrea or Gabriel - to come and join me, if they want to. But they hardly ever do.

Mapie's claim tonight, was that they are all scared of me. And that they all dislike me.

(Who does that sound like, everyone?)

And apparently, I'm also crazy. Yes, I'm crazy for finding the rantings of a drunk, belligerent, French nutter irritating. Apparently, I make her feel she can't smoke in the living room because I 'say stuff' - which I never do. I just leave. But considering no one else smokes in the common areas of the house, because they think of the non-smokers instead of just themselves, I don't think she has any right to complain. She started smoking through choice - I didn't develop an allergy on purpose just to annoy her.

I rarely raise my voice to her - unless I'm replying to something she's yelling down the hall from halfway up the stairs. Because raising your voice loses you the argument, and I'm not that childish any more. What I am, though, is really sick of being made to feel this way in my own home. I seriously need to get out - although I hate to let her win like that. Which I know is a petty attitude to have, but she really does want to own this place. She pretty much thinks she already does.

When I was thrown out of home, and decided to stay away for good, it was because I couldn't stand being abused and persecuted in a place where I was supposed to be at ease. I'm still feeling like that here. If ever she comes in and doesn't immediately say 'hi' to me I'm on edge because I think she's come in drunk and is going to throw one of these strops. I can't stand living like that.

I left a note for Gabriel telling him what happened tonight and asking if I could have a chat to him tomorrow, because I want to establish whether he is scared of me and dislikes me as much as Mapie says. I'm also going to talk to Mr Malick, our landlord. As far as I can see, for all my faults, she's the one who makes life hard for everyone, here. She leaves the kitchen filthy while drunken friends of hers pass out and let their children poo on the floor in the downstairs toilet - and are too out of it to clean it up - all weekend. She's the one who brings people in off the street - literally, off the street - and then claims they attempted to rape her outside my unlocked door, even though I hear nothing.

What the hell am I supposed to do? I think I have two or three months left of my contract - although I can pay to break it, if I like - and I'd need to save to move, because I won't get my deposit back immediately. I don't even have anywhere to go - although I'm considering (vaguely) asking to lodge at my uncle's house for a while, which would mean moving back to Ashford, which I would loathe.

The simple fact is, either she goes, or I go. And it's getting increasingly urgent.