New Flats & MacGyver Wannabes
The past few days for us have been very activity-laden. It all began on Saturday morning when we actually gave up our sleep-in to skip over to Penny Kenton (our Estate Agent). Handed over the final sum, signed contracts, obtained keys and spent about half an hour measuring the rooms so we could be sure about the size of the furniture we were hoping to later purchase.
Funny thing about entering the flat again after not having seen it since we paid the deposit was that Tim and I both remembered the bedroom and living hall to be a lot bigger. My theory about it though, is that because we've been back here living in Etchingham Court (which is a 2-bedroom flat), we got used to having a larger space again..BUT when we first saw the new flat, we were very impressed by the space because everything else we'd seen that same week had been a lot smaller. So yes, one could say it's all relative, but the new flat is actually quite spacious.
In the meantime, Tim's Dad arrived at the old flat whilst we were finishing up in the new one. He'd volunteered (or was perhaps slightly coerced) to help us with the first half of the move since he has a car. Technically, his Dad comes up every now and then to spend the weekend with Tim for some father-son quality time anyways, so this was kinda like that (other than it also being a kill 2-birds with one stone situation). It was for me, the second time meeting him - I called him Mr.Hanagan again, though he later insisted I use Walt/Walter. I told him I wasn't sure if I could get used to that, and ended up mainly talking to him throughout the weekend without referring to him as anything other than "you/yours". Hehe.
So the whole of Saturday afternoon-evening was spent with Tim and his Dad moving the stuff I'd packed earlier in the week to the new flat, one trip at a time. I think it took them about 6-7 trips all in all. I stayed back the whole time so the car had more free space, but also kept packing more things while they were gone. Encountered mucho dust everywhere because Tim has A LOT of old stuff (him being a bit of a hoarder), which fired up my sinusitis like mad. I was basically rendered quite out-of-action after that. By the time they were done with the last lot of stuff, everyone settled down with cups of tea and called it a day.
I on the other hand, had to start worrying about what to make for dinner, as there is always a bit of a dilemma when it comes to eating with his Dad. You see, I don't eat meats other than chicken, beef and seafood, whilst Tim eats every other meat except seafood. Mr.Hanagan however, doesn't eat any meat except for pork sausages and bacon, though he loves vegetables and cheese. He also doesn't eat much bread, rice or pasta - basically carbs are a no no. So yes, it's always tough to make a meal that'll suit the 3 of us, because I always want to make sure his Dad will have something cooked to eat, even though Tim reckons he's happy with his usual diet of cheese sandwiches or salads. We decided on egg+veg fried rice in the end, cause his Dad said he'd rather eat rice if he had to choose between the 3 dreaded carbs. It wasn't too bad though - I added some diced-up salami into his portion, whilst Tim and I had side dishes of black-pepper fried chicken. Phew.
Meanwhile, neither of us had much of an opportunity for a lie-in on Sunday either, as we had planned to be furniture shopping in Ikea. His Dad volunteered (no coercion involved this time) to take us there, though I felt bad for the boredom he must have suffered as we ended up spending about 5 hours there in total. And this was even though Tim and I already had a list of the exact items we wanted, and knew the exact names, prices and quantities of the stuff we planned to get. The Ikea in Wembley is just a massive warehouse space, probably 1.5 times the one opposite The Curve (in KL). Also, shopping anywhere on a Sunday is generally a bad idea because the whole of London seemed to be there as well. Nonetheless, we got every single thing we wanted on the list, plus a few little useful indulgences, except for the Lack Coffee Table (which they did not have stock of in black-brown). All the big things were delivered to the new flat yesterday (which was where I spent the whole day unpacking all the boxes we'd brought over whilst waiting for deliveries).
The Ikea Delivery Guy was rather excited to show off all his tattoos to me after noticing the one on my lower back, so I was treated (without much choice) to a brief showcase of his skin-ink collection in between the unloading of our flat-packed furniture from his van. Tim reckons this was the case because I actually bother talking to people, which makes them tell me more things I don't necessarily need/want to know, whereas his style is more restricted to a bit of stoic nodding. It could be true, I suppose, given that I am that sort of person who could easily talk to strangers..
Hmm, I just need to make sure I teach my kids NOT to follow in my footsteps.
Anyways, the most interesting bit of my day happened right after the Delivery Guy explained to me the relation of his "Promises and Lies" tattoo to UB40's album title and the fact that he was screwing someone else behind his wife's back, unloaded our last big package into the flat, and got me to sign the Delivery Form. (Sorry that was an unbelievably long sentence). Yeah anyways, he let the front door of the flat shut after pushing the last big box in, which isn't normally an issue IF say I was standing INSIDE the flat, or if I had my KEYS with me.. But I wasn't, and I didn't, and was thereby effectively locked out of the flat (because it latches itself when you close the door). Now THAT was a mighty interesting situation to be caught in. I didn't have my phone with me, which meant I couldn't call Tim. And because I didn't have my phone with me, I didn't know Tim's mobile number either (thanks to dependency on phone address books). I also didn't have any money on me, nor the keys to the old flat, so going back was not an option.. And best of all, I didn't even have my jacket, so the prospect of heading out anywhere was definitely a combination of cold + wet = nasty.
I ended up pacing the corridor outside the flat (but still inside the building block) for about 10 minutes, contemplating my lack of options, wishing I had left at least one window open, or learnt how to pick locks like MacGyver..before deciding that the best shot I had was running over to our Estate Agents in hopes of a spare set of keys, or at least a telephone to ring Tim, after getting his number off their database (pathetic, fo shizzle). I got stared at by every passing person wrapped warm and tight in a nice, thick winter coat for being so sleeveless and brave, but made it down the street alive and thanked my lucky stars for Penny Kenton actually possessing a spare set of keys. And that, boys and girls, was the most interesting non-planned event that's happened to me in my time in London so far. I don't really want to attempt that sort of thing again for a while.
In fact, I had to de-stress after returning the spare keys by assembling Ikea furniture. I had put together the footstool, one bedside table, and half the TV bench by the time Tim got off work and came over. We embarked on the adventure of assembling our lovely king-sized bed, which was a very tiring process in itself because of the many heavy boards and difficult screws (talking actual screws here, for those of you with a dirty mind). By the time we were done, it was past 10pm and I decided to treat us to a celebratory dinner at one of the nice kebab places on the way home (mainly because I couldn't be arsed to cook from being so tired and hungry). Hehe. Okay lah, I've had my eye on that place for a while now and this was a good day to be trying it out anyways.
Dinner was fantastic and I gobbled most of my meal down like never before - intensive screwing can be such hard work. And of course, there just had to be an equally interesting end to our already very long day. We stepped outside under some rain which graduated into a thunderstorm about 3-minutes after we left the restaurant. Lovely.
Funny thing about entering the flat again after not having seen it since we paid the deposit was that Tim and I both remembered the bedroom and living hall to be a lot bigger. My theory about it though, is that because we've been back here living in Etchingham Court (which is a 2-bedroom flat), we got used to having a larger space again..BUT when we first saw the new flat, we were very impressed by the space because everything else we'd seen that same week had been a lot smaller. So yes, one could say it's all relative, but the new flat is actually quite spacious.
In the meantime, Tim's Dad arrived at the old flat whilst we were finishing up in the new one. He'd volunteered (or was perhaps slightly coerced) to help us with the first half of the move since he has a car. Technically, his Dad comes up every now and then to spend the weekend with Tim for some father-son quality time anyways, so this was kinda like that (other than it also being a kill 2-birds with one stone situation). It was for me, the second time meeting him - I called him Mr.Hanagan again, though he later insisted I use Walt/Walter. I told him I wasn't sure if I could get used to that, and ended up mainly talking to him throughout the weekend without referring to him as anything other than "you/yours". Hehe.
So the whole of Saturday afternoon-evening was spent with Tim and his Dad moving the stuff I'd packed earlier in the week to the new flat, one trip at a time. I think it took them about 6-7 trips all in all. I stayed back the whole time so the car had more free space, but also kept packing more things while they were gone. Encountered mucho dust everywhere because Tim has A LOT of old stuff (him being a bit of a hoarder), which fired up my sinusitis like mad. I was basically rendered quite out-of-action after that. By the time they were done with the last lot of stuff, everyone settled down with cups of tea and called it a day.
I on the other hand, had to start worrying about what to make for dinner, as there is always a bit of a dilemma when it comes to eating with his Dad. You see, I don't eat meats other than chicken, beef and seafood, whilst Tim eats every other meat except seafood. Mr.Hanagan however, doesn't eat any meat except for pork sausages and bacon, though he loves vegetables and cheese. He also doesn't eat much bread, rice or pasta - basically carbs are a no no. So yes, it's always tough to make a meal that'll suit the 3 of us, because I always want to make sure his Dad will have something cooked to eat, even though Tim reckons he's happy with his usual diet of cheese sandwiches or salads. We decided on egg+veg fried rice in the end, cause his Dad said he'd rather eat rice if he had to choose between the 3 dreaded carbs. It wasn't too bad though - I added some diced-up salami into his portion, whilst Tim and I had side dishes of black-pepper fried chicken. Phew.
Meanwhile, neither of us had much of an opportunity for a lie-in on Sunday either, as we had planned to be furniture shopping in Ikea. His Dad volunteered (no coercion involved this time) to take us there, though I felt bad for the boredom he must have suffered as we ended up spending about 5 hours there in total. And this was even though Tim and I already had a list of the exact items we wanted, and knew the exact names, prices and quantities of the stuff we planned to get. The Ikea in Wembley is just a massive warehouse space, probably 1.5 times the one opposite The Curve (in KL). Also, shopping anywhere on a Sunday is generally a bad idea because the whole of London seemed to be there as well. Nonetheless, we got every single thing we wanted on the list, plus a few little useful indulgences, except for the Lack Coffee Table (which they did not have stock of in black-brown). All the big things were delivered to the new flat yesterday (which was where I spent the whole day unpacking all the boxes we'd brought over whilst waiting for deliveries).
The Ikea Delivery Guy was rather excited to show off all his tattoos to me after noticing the one on my lower back, so I was treated (without much choice) to a brief showcase of his skin-ink collection in between the unloading of our flat-packed furniture from his van. Tim reckons this was the case because I actually bother talking to people, which makes them tell me more things I don't necessarily need/want to know, whereas his style is more restricted to a bit of stoic nodding. It could be true, I suppose, given that I am that sort of person who could easily talk to strangers..
Hmm, I just need to make sure I teach my kids NOT to follow in my footsteps.
Anyways, the most interesting bit of my day happened right after the Delivery Guy explained to me the relation of his "Promises and Lies" tattoo to UB40's album title and the fact that he was screwing someone else behind his wife's back, unloaded our last big package into the flat, and got me to sign the Delivery Form. (Sorry that was an unbelievably long sentence). Yeah anyways, he let the front door of the flat shut after pushing the last big box in, which isn't normally an issue IF say I was standing INSIDE the flat, or if I had my KEYS with me.. But I wasn't, and I didn't, and was thereby effectively locked out of the flat (because it latches itself when you close the door). Now THAT was a mighty interesting situation to be caught in. I didn't have my phone with me, which meant I couldn't call Tim. And because I didn't have my phone with me, I didn't know Tim's mobile number either (thanks to dependency on phone address books). I also didn't have any money on me, nor the keys to the old flat, so going back was not an option.. And best of all, I didn't even have my jacket, so the prospect of heading out anywhere was definitely a combination of cold + wet = nasty.
I ended up pacing the corridor outside the flat (but still inside the building block) for about 10 minutes, contemplating my lack of options, wishing I had left at least one window open, or learnt how to pick locks like MacGyver..before deciding that the best shot I had was running over to our Estate Agents in hopes of a spare set of keys, or at least a telephone to ring Tim, after getting his number off their database (pathetic, fo shizzle). I got stared at by every passing person wrapped warm and tight in a nice, thick winter coat for being so sleeveless and brave, but made it down the street alive and thanked my lucky stars for Penny Kenton actually possessing a spare set of keys. And that, boys and girls, was the most interesting non-planned event that's happened to me in my time in London so far. I don't really want to attempt that sort of thing again for a while.
In fact, I had to de-stress after returning the spare keys by assembling Ikea furniture. I had put together the footstool, one bedside table, and half the TV bench by the time Tim got off work and came over. We embarked on the adventure of assembling our lovely king-sized bed, which was a very tiring process in itself because of the many heavy boards and difficult screws (talking actual screws here, for those of you with a dirty mind). By the time we were done, it was past 10pm and I decided to treat us to a celebratory dinner at one of the nice kebab places on the way home (mainly because I couldn't be arsed to cook from being so tired and hungry). Hehe. Okay lah, I've had my eye on that place for a while now and this was a good day to be trying it out anyways.
Dinner was fantastic and I gobbled most of my meal down like never before - intensive screwing can be such hard work. And of course, there just had to be an equally interesting end to our already very long day. We stepped outside under some rain which graduated into a thunderstorm about 3-minutes after we left the restaurant. Lovely.