It’s all gone a little bit Pete Tong – Part II
Last night I started to write about how my life had started to get all interesting again, what with my contract being sent to the wrong address and so me missing the deadline to return it by etc etc. Well, I headed back to my flat after retreiving the errant contract from my old flatmate, Samual*, and collapsed on the sofa. And found a letter addressed to my current flatmate, Jayne**, from Ardmuir detailing when and where she can collect her keys for her student accommodation for this coming academic year. Yup, she has a contract for a room in halls starting on 7th September 2009. WTF??!! She has a joint contract with me that takes us up until mid April. I am very confused. Is she planning on subletting either here or Ardmuir? Is it an old application she’s trying to cancel? Is she breaking her contract here somehow? I don’t understand… I need to speak to her about it but we never see each other. She works in a hotel doing breakfast and dinner shifts so is working early mornings and late nights. I work office hours. We’re never in at the same time during university holidays. So far the best suggestion I’ve had is to leave a post-it note on the letter with a big question mark and the words do we need to talk? I’m feeling very stressed about the not-knowing but have calmed down since Saturday night. Ultimately it’s Jayne’s problem but I STILL WANT TO KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON AND WHO I’M MEANT TO BE LIVING WITH!!!
Update on the contract situation:
It’s all going to be okay, and I’ve signed and handed the contract back and everything. Phew!
*not his name but you may remember me speaking about him before…
**not her name either. But my flatmates seem to change rapidly and so I name them to ease confusion
New home high above the city!!
I did it!! I moved!! Woooo!! With more than a little help from my friends. I moved on Saturday and Thursday night I hadn’t finished packing and was working all day Friday. Okay I thought, I’ll just stay up all Friday night until it’s done. I should have known better. My old flatmate, who has since moved to Edinburgh, came up for the weekend and suggested a drink after I finished work. I was feeling very stressed at this point in time. Of course I said yes. Then proceeded to down several doubles in quite quick succession. And ended up a little bit drunk. Went back to the flat to start the mammoth task of packing. And entered panic mode. I ended up going to a friends place, drinking with them and staying the night there before they gave me a lift back in the morning. And then they stayed and helped. Overall I had six people helping me carry stuff, load cars, and pack up what I had left to pack. I’m incredibly lucky to have such amazing people in my life. I specifically asked one person to help, the others put themselves forward. I just feel so honoured to have these people in my life. The friend that I stayed the night with is part of my “dyke family”. Actually, she’s even more than that. She’s my own personal Samaritan. (I shall refer to her as Jo* after the email helpline for the actual Samaritans, jo@samaitans.org.) Just by existing Jo gives me confidence that everything is gonna be okay in the end. And when it’s 1am on a school night and I start doubting this, normally when drunk, I can phone her. And she’s there. She’ll talk me down and make things feel do-able again. She’s been there when it really matters and I can’t even begin to say how appreciative of this I am. Which is how I ended up at her house on Friday night. And that is where I thought it would end. But no. She insisted on helping me move. After we stayed up talking, drinking, smoking til 3am and I had to be at my old flat at 10am.
Urgh, this is turning really soppy, I’m just very glad that I have these people in my life. I appreciate everyone but I underestimated Jo and I feel very bad about that and also lucky to have her in my life.
And I have a new flat with amazing views and sunshine!! =) Even if I did manage to accidentally donate the book I was reading to a charity shop by mistake. It’s in their window display. I’m hoping it doesn’t get sold and I can buy it back on a day off…
*not her actual name. What a surprise.
Forms should not cause me this much confusion
I’m being signed up for distance learning training courses at work run by the local college. Which will supplement the course designed by my good friend Ella nicely (I’ve almost finished the first assignment, honest!!). To this end I needed to fill in registration forms. I got stuck at the first question. Name. Now this should be simple, right? Wrong. Not when your birth name, Francis*, is not the name you’re known by, Flip**, and you can’t change your name legally without risking the upset of elderly relatives. And the form has no “preferred name” or “known as” option. And because my lovely lovely employers (I’m actually contractually obliged to say that) do have that option I’m entered in the staff database as Flip. And as they are the ones sending me on this course. While correspondence referring to Francis Oceans-Deep*** will probably eventually be understood it may cause an element of confusion at first. So I created my own “known as” box. Oops.
Next was address. Ah. Also tricky. Everyone has an address, right?? Or at least everyone applying for distance learning college courses you’d think. Well I don’t… I have two! One which I know will be out dated in the very near future and one which is not secured yet. (Lease signing on Thursday, eep!!) Which one to put?! I decided that my home address is my place of work. Yup, sleeping bag under the desk at night, that’s me.
I’m fairly confident about my date of birth at least.
* not my real birth name
** not the name I’m known by. Well, I am, but not frequently. And not at work.
*** not my last name. Not even close.
By jove, I think I have a solution!!
I think I solved my homelessness problem. And not with a plan to “sofa-spare room-floor” surf between the abodes of my Aberdonian cronies. Or a plan to take annual leave and, well, leave Aberdeen for a while. Or a plan to take my tent and pitch it by the river. Or a plan to donate all my belongings (for that read ‘vast majority of all my belongings’) and join a peace camp. Like Faslane. I stayed there for a few days back in ‘07. It was amazing. Or a plan to… well, you get the idea of the many crazy plans I came up with in sleepless desperation filled nights.
But no more! Hopefully, fingers crossed and chickens uncounted -as they have not yet hatched- as of the weekend of the 11th / 12th April I will have a shiny new flat!! Well, slight misrepresentation, I shall be joint renting a charmingly old and full of character flat 10 minutes from the city centre. Which is so high up you could be forgiven for think you’re in a high-rise but no! Just very high above the shops below with amazing cityscapes to be seen from all windows.
Which just leaves the problem of moving a bookcase across town….
Imminent homelessness
I’m going to be homeless as of the 18th April unless I find somewhere to live kinda soon. Well, the 20th of April cuz I’m going to Berlin on the 18th! But I can’t really take all my worldly belongs with me, especially as I want to just go carry-on. So the 17th really.
Now I have been looking but without much success. Well, any success to be honest. Firstly there was a place in deepest darkest Torry. A line from the wikipedia entry says it all really: “Torry is a neighbourhood highlighted as a priority area for Aberdeen’s Community Regeneration Strategy.” Some parts of Torry I would happily live in. The parts within sight of either one of the bridges. But to walk home of a night I would have to walk past the docks and then through Torry. Many moons ago I promised myself I wouldn’t be scared to walk alone at night. But still. And it’s
The next place I looked at was Derek’s. No. Just no.
Then there was a place near the centre. An okay place. But there were sliding mirrored wardrobe doors. A pet hate. I really really really don’t like them. Not when they’re right next to the bed. And can’t be covered up because they slide. Plus the place didn’t feel like it could really be home to me…
I also saw a yuppy pad that looked out over the river to Torry. Also with a mirrored sliding wardrobe. Why? WHY?? And mucho money too. And did I mention the sharing with a yuppy?? Okay, okay, so I have some prejudices… *looks ashamed*
Then a place near to Old Aberdeen. It wasn’t to be.
But a place in Mastrick sounded very possible. Well, she claimed it was in Summerhill. It wasn’t. It’s easy to tell. Anything to the south of the Lang Stracht is in Summerhill, anything to the north is in Mastrick. This flat was clearly on the north side of the Lang Stracht thus making it a Mastrick abode. Not that there’s anything wrong with this, but if you compare the neighbourhood profile of Mastrick with the neighbourhood profile of Summerhill you can see the reason why she lied. Anyway, this place, despite being 3ish miles from the centre -not my idea of easy walking distance- I had high hopes. Mainly because it came with a cat. But it was partly furnished. I’d like to sleep in a bed. And I don’t want to buy a bed. The fact that I own a bookcase and a beanbag is enough for me.
…and so on to the next one! This is in Rosemount, the highlight of this area being its proximity to the Beechgrove Garden which I happened across on my slightly lost way to view the flat. It’s a no. Overpriced, too far out and has a carpeted bathroom. And two guys have been living there. Yum! But mainly it’s over my price range.
There’s a flat I have yet to see. But the ad says it has “built in mirrored double wardrobes”. Eeeep! No no no! But maybe they don’t slide. I could deal with no slidingness. Then I can cover them.
Or there’s a flat with a French man, an Irish man, a Spanish woman and a spare room. (I know, it really does sound like the start) Which I turned down yesterday, mainly based on price and impermanence. They move in and out all the time, it seems to be European folk over here for a few months doing a stint with oil companies. Now, I know I said I turned it down yesterday but it would maybe be more honest to say, I attempted to turn it down yesterday. Because the Irish guy offered to lower the rent… They seem to want me to live there! Which I find odd. However I still don’t want to be looking for new flatmates every few months. So at 8pm tonight I’m turning him down again.
Which leaves my favourite option, flathunting for a two bed place with a friend of a friend who split with her boyfriend and needs to find somewhere else. I’m meeting her tonight just after I turn down the Irish man. And yup, it would be the girl whose name I couldn’t remember
Spring is here!
I’m now sure of it: spring has arrived in Aberdeen! Why am I sure of this? Because my wee friend has returned! He lives on the same street as me and he sits on the wall outside the tenements drinking nettle tea, eating sprouted lentils and smoking rollies. He’s ace. He invited me in for nettle tea once, it made me happy. But in winter he hibernates and I hadn’t seen him in months… But now twice in a row I’ve seen him outside on my way to work! Today he gave me some alfafa which is surprisingly tasty for a natural diuretic.
However I have noticed that he is now under the impression that my name is Jake… Which is cool. I’m not sure what his name is. I think it’s Pete*. But he has a Tibetan prayer name too. And after Dunfermline knocked Aberdeen out of the Scottish Cup on Wednesday he told me he was born in Dunfermline. Unfortunately “they” forged his birth certificate so it doesn’t reflect this. As it says Peter on his birth certificate I figure that this may also not be an accurate record.
I’ll miss him when I move. He’s one of my favourite things about where I live now.
*name changed to add to general confusion surrounding the issue
Flat-hunting: as dangerous as abseiling?
I’m flat-hunting at the moment. Well, flatshare-hunting as I discovered the only way I could afford place of my own along with bills and council tax, and still be able to eat -especially if my contract at work isn’t renewed- is the quaint bedsit where you can make a cup of tea and brush your teeth in the morning without having to leave the comfort of your bed. Which might be cool in some ways but isn’t really what I’m looking for in a place to call home. Anyway, this means I’ve been viewing various rooms in various flats. With various degrees of failure. Although even getting to this stage has proved tricky. There are several flatshare websites which require you to create a profile before you can even view their “room for rent” ads. Okay, fair enough, I’ve done this. However it means I’m getting folk contacting me saying “Hi! I have a room!” blah blah blah. This might seem as if it’s a good thing. It isn’t always. People seem to have issues with me stating that I want to live within easy walking distance of the city centre. That, to me, means one mile, maximum. A five mile hike is not easy for me. And takes quite a while. This on its own rules out a large percentage of places I’ve been e-mailed about. Then there’s the fact I don’t want to live with students (purely for council tax reasons). There go another load of places right there. And finally, and okay, I didn’t state this, my bad, I DON’T WANT TO LIVE WITH EIGHTIES THROW BACK YUPPIES!! I never realised how many there were!! They have slicked back hair, are still wearing suits late into the evening and have mirrored wardrobes. Mirrored wardrobes are a pet hate of mine. They freak me out. I don’t want to be able to lie in bed and stare at myself. And these are sliding mirrored doors. Which means they can’t be covered up. Or rather, they can’t be covered up and still allow the wardrobe to adequately function.
But I’ve managed to digress quite nicely from the original purpose of this post. Derek*. I heard about Derek’s flat after he phoned me and left an answer phone message. And then sent a text. And called again. And sent another text. And e-mailed. All in the space of about three hours. Maybe I should have seen this as a sign of things to come? But no, I just thought the poor guy wanted to find someone to let his room quickly. Anyway, I went to see his flat -which, incidentally, wasn’t that close to the city centre. Now, I expect some questions when people meet potential flatmates. But not questions like “Are you single?” and “Are you planning on staying single?”. Which he claimed to be concerned about as he doesn’t like being woken up by midnight callers. Okaaaaaaaaaaay… So he said he’d be making a decision about who he wanted to move in and he’d let me know by midday on Saturday. Wait, hang on, don’t I need to say I want to move in?? I don’t press this point and mentally shrug as I decide to see what happens on Saturday. I can always refuse then, right? Midday on Saturday comes and goes, and as does Sunday. I assume that he’s not calling. I’m not heartbroken, I didn’t really want to live there at all. Then on Monday I turn my phone on after work. I have three missed calls, two texts and an answer phone message. All from Derek. Saying it’s vitally important that I get in touch with him, but not why it’s vitally important. Now the only thing that I think warrants this level of contact is if Derek has suddenly discovered that he has a deadly airborne virus that will kill me within 24 hours if I don’t make it to a hospital. Figuring that the reason for his calls isn’t this I continue with my planned night of going to the cinema with friends straight after work. I don’t call him back. He calls me twice more and leaves messages. I finally call him back after the film is over. Do I want to move in? I say no, after not hearing from him on Saturday I’d started to make other plans. He claims to have tried to call me on Saturday but my phone was turned off. Hmmm… I’m not inclined to believe this. Firstly, my phone was not switched off and I had signal all day. Also, I get sent a text if someone calls but doesn’t leave a message. And anyway, I know that Derek is not perturbed by phones being switched off. He’s a liar!! I make polite “ah well, too bad” noises and I think that’s the end of it. And it was. Until the end of last week. I get a call from a withheld number which I happened not to answer, for no reason other than I didn’t hear my phone. And there was an answer phone message. From Derek. He noticed I was still advertising for a room. Was I interested in moving in with him? He’s offshore just now so it’s hard to get in touch with him but he’ll call again tomorrow. And he did. And I didn’t answer. And he called the next day. And I didn’t answer. Notice a pattern?! Oh, and I also checked my emails and he’d emailed me before he went offshore too. The guy is offshore!!! He’s hundreds of miles from land and still he calls! Using a satellite phone. Do you know how much that must be costing him?? But he hasn’t called for two days now, maybe, just maybe, he’s got the message? Or perhaps I’ll hear from him after the 24th when he’s back from the rigs… Sigh…
*not his real name
