The New Flat

After a horrendous nine weeks of searching, I moved into my new flat on May 4th. The move itself was not easy, but I wasn't helping things by leaving the packing until the day before I was supposed to move, and even then I found it hard to get started because I was terribly, terribly hungover, having spent the previous day at Later @ Fire, a dayclub. I was unmotivated and overwhelmed. Originally, I was required to move out of my old flat a full day and a half before I could enter the new place. In my haze, I dismissively thought I could manage it by hiring a hatchback, loading it with my stuff, then parking it near a friend's house where I'd stay the night. As I started to pack, I realised (i) I had more than one car-load of stuff, and (ii) you can't park anywhere in London unless you have a resident's permit, even in suburban areas like Oval, where I planned to stay with Denise . Bugger. I marched on, managing to jig things around with my landlord to my advantage, but the stress remained overwhelming. My two recurring thoughts were "I don't want to do this", and "what am I doing here?". It wasn't long before I was on the phone to my parents, bawling hysterically, and wondering if I can manage it all. . It seems so long ago, and fortunately I can smile as I recall all this... but at the time it was hideous.

I'm in the Bourne Estate, a turn of the century council development in Holborn... or Gray's Inn... or Clerkenwell... or Farringdon... It's hard to tell in London where the boundaries begin and end... And estate agents are keen to capitalise on the confusion. The estate is bordered by two busy main roads: Gray's Inn Road to the west, and Clerkenwell Road to the north. And to the east is Leather Lane, where a fabulous little street market is held each weekday. The nearest tube station is Chancery Lane, on the Central Line.

As soon as I moved in, I knew I liked the place, but felt sure I'd made a mistake. In the weeks leading up to "the date" I increasingly felt I should flatshare, to save some money. But with the haze of my recent mental confusion, I never even thought of googling "London flatshare" until after I moved. There was a flatshare alternative to the flat I chose, but it wasn't much of an option. It was a one-bed flat in a nice tower block near Holborn tube station. The owner/landlord converted the sitting room into his bedroom. This is a common arrangement in London, so it didn't faze me, but it meant I would live entirely in my bedroom, apart from sharing the galley kitchen and bathroom. In Australia, I'd run a mile at the thought of this... But in London, this flatshare was a steal for its location and price, at only £120/week, plus £20/week for utilities. I'm paying double that to live on my own, but given the alternative, I feel I made the right decision.