Our house, in the middle of our street...
It's actually nearly at one end, but never mind.
I moved in yesterday :) Before I left home, I stood in the hall and thought, ok, what have I forgotten to pack? And then I went and collected various of my belongings and packed them. And then when I arrived in Dublin and unpacked with cries of "Oh bugger, I forgot X" every 5 minutes. Argh, I hate moving day. But I have enough to get me through the week and to make my room all colour-coordinated and prettiful, moslty because my mother is determined to make me into a Real Girl.
Apart from my packing failures, I am very happy. The parents helped me clean and unpack, bought me groceries and took me out for dinner, in the process discovering a really nice, affordable chippy-type restaurant just down the road. Then they headed home and I settled in for my first night in a strange house. It's an old terrace house. It creaks. It has single glazing and quite thin walls. It may take a few more nights to get used to the odd clicks and groans and passing traffic and the occasional clatter from the restaurant next door. (It's a traditional African restaurant with a menu that appears to consist mainly of yams. I want my housemates to arrive already so I can try it out.)
The house is a big Victorian red brick terrace house with very high ceilings (curtains that are floor length at home are four inches short of window-length here), and, as mentioned, single glazing and thin walls. It is bright and spacious and hugely impractical, and I love it with an all encompassing love.
I moved in yesterday :) Before I left home, I stood in the hall and thought, ok, what have I forgotten to pack? And then I went and collected various of my belongings and packed them. And then when I arrived in Dublin and unpacked with cries of "Oh bugger, I forgot X" every 5 minutes. Argh, I hate moving day. But I have enough to get me through the week and to make my room all colour-coordinated and prettiful, moslty because my mother is determined to make me into a Real Girl.
Apart from my packing failures, I am very happy. The parents helped me clean and unpack, bought me groceries and took me out for dinner, in the process discovering a really nice, affordable chippy-type restaurant just down the road. Then they headed home and I settled in for my first night in a strange house. It's an old terrace house. It creaks. It has single glazing and quite thin walls. It may take a few more nights to get used to the odd clicks and groans and passing traffic and the occasional clatter from the restaurant next door. (It's a traditional African restaurant with a menu that appears to consist mainly of yams. I want my housemates to arrive already so I can try it out.)
The house is a big Victorian red brick terrace house with very high ceilings (curtains that are floor length at home are four inches short of window-length here), and, as mentioned, single glazing and thin walls. It is bright and spacious and hugely impractical, and I love it with an all encompassing love.