Tuesday, March 14, 2017


I promised myself that I was going to get back into the blogging malarkey this year. It was not even approaching 'sporadic' in 2016! After a rather tumultuous 2015, the following year was lollygagging in its wake. The twelve months of unemployment throughout was beginning to wear me down until I was nearly a mere shadow of my former self.

Thankfully, 2017 is looking up and I have a job (wahoo!) and this has spurred me on to find my own abode once more (having spent the last year and a quarter living in the homes of others, be it family or friends - all very kind and wonderful people).

Once back in the realms of "normal" life (employed and with my own private space around me) I can shed my cloak of morbid woe and channel any positive energy into prattling on about nothing to anyone who cares to read.

So let's get back to writing words 'n' stuff'...

My new role is situated in Sheffield so I have some reasonable options in regard to where I live:

  • Chesterfield - which would mean a daily, costly commute on top of the rent
  • Sheffield - local to work but a tad more pricey
  • Oz - but I have no hot air balloon nor a cyclone at hand, so I might skip this choice.

I started looking at places on Friday. During my lunchbreak, I visited a new block of flats in the north area of Sheffield. I like a new build. the notion that no one has lived in a place before me is rather satisfying. It comes with white goods (washing machine and fridge/freezer); it's secure; it's soundproofed; but it is rather small. Luckily, I don't own much furniture - as long as my books and DVDs have somewhere to go, I'm happy.

Could this be my next home?

On Friday evening, I checked out a larger flat in Brimington, Chesterfield. It was a spacious living space, but directly above an Indian restaurant (smelly and bound to make me hungry... and fat!) and in a noisy area. It also had no white goods. Loads of cupboard space, though. If I wanted to invite some friends around to play sardines, we'd be sorted!

On Saturday, I checked out a ground floor flat in the same block where my brother and his family live. This was not as small as the first, nor as large as the second, but it was homely. I am not fond of ground floor flats because I have a fear of home invasion and theft. Oh, and floods. And moths - but that's inconsequential.

Now... we come to 'Application Fees'. After living for sixteen years in Australia, I had no idea about this astonishing extortion brought upon us by Estate Agents. Apparently, it costs a fortune to do a credit check or whatever... but £300?? Eff off!! The last flat was asking this and it put me off immediately.

So, on Monday morning, I applied for the first flat I saw back on Friday lunchtime as the application fee was only £150. I hope I get it, otherwise that's six ponies gone to the glue factory!

Now, as anyone who knows me well knows that I am prone to bouts of stress, they don't need me to highlight the fact that my lower intestine has been popping and gurgling for the past four days. Panic ensues and my innards react like a volcano with a billion Mentos thrown in. I shudder to recall the day an old "friend" had a vicious rant at me (ridiculously unfairly, I assure you!) and I was so taken aback, I just trembled and farted. Heaven help me if I am ever in a bank hold-up or trapped in a well with a nervy wrestler suffering from Tourette's.

As soon as I have found and secured a place to live, the better. I look forward to relaxing...

Wish me luck, y'all.

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