Moving by degrees

My new housemates helped me to unload the car. It's the little things like that that make such a difference. We sat, had a cup of tea, watched the snooker, and chatted. We talked about TESOL, Japan and college. My new housemates are very nice.

Accepted! Finally! and 8-9-10 too!

“Hi DTRMCR, it’s been decided: the room is yours if you want it! If you do, let me know.”

Excellent! Yes please, that’d be great. Phew! It took eight viewings, but I’ve finally found somewhere to live that I think I’ll be happy in. What a relief!

Also, woo for 08/09/10! By the time we get to 09/10/11, Laura and I will be in Japan! Yahoo!

Viewing #8 – Ayres Road – 6.9.10

A big room, in a pleasant house full of lovely people in a nice area? At 300pcm all in? That sounds perfect.

There’s a garage for my bike, where everybody else keeps their bikes. Paul and Rachel are keen cyclists, Emily a more moderate bike user. There’s a piano in the lounge which Rachel plays occasionally. She’s a teacher, and custodian of the house cat, who also seems friendly. Emily is from Northampton, keeps rats, and is an actress. Paul is about to start an Environmental Sciences MA at Uni. The kitchen is smallish, but bigger than that at Parsonage. The bedroom is on the ground floor. The garden is big, cultivated in part, with a hammock and a huge picnic table. It’s lovely.

Viewing #7 - Three Architects

“We’re architects. We met at Uni. We bought this place when it was a wreck, and we’ve done it up. Let me show you round.”

Dark wood floorboards. A nine-foot glass coffee table. Slate paved kitchen. Dining table for eight. A shower head like a dinner plate. Duck-egg blue bathtub, with feet. A very nice house. Bedroom? Smallish. Great Stone Road smallish. Great for downsizing. But not the best value, at 389pcm. And the vibe wasn’t quite right. Too clean. Too catalogued. No, not for me.

Viewing #6 - Withington

An hour before I was supposed to go and meet the housemates at the mansion, the landlord called me. The room had been taken by someone else. I might have smelled a rat yesterday, when my appointment to meet them was suddenly postponed by one day. It was, I conceded, ten days since I’d viewed the place. Then again, it was the landlord who’d suggested waiting that long before meeting the housemates. What a shame. I’d liked it a lot.

Viewings: the decision

Number 3. Hands down. I called the landlord. “Well, you’d better come round and meet the housemates,” he said. “Can you do next Wednesday?” Yes I could. That was after the Bank Holiday. Fingers crossed! I’m sorted!

Viewing #5 – The laddy shack

I knew that is was a no before I knocked on the door. The plastic window in the porch door was more or less a deal-clincher right away. The bedroom was big, but the communal areas were grotty, the kitchen was old, dilapidated, mouldy. I got on really well with the lads in the house, but they were both intending to move out in the next six months. “I’m too old,” I thought as I looked around, “to live in a this kind of shit-tip.” My guts were right.

Viewing #4 – The belly dancer

“I teach belly-dancing downstairs a couple of nights a week. Is that okay with you?”

A garden full of pot plants; dream catchers in the window; bongos here; a didgeridoo there: for Old Trafford, this house was pretty darned Chorlton. The Ayres Road neighbourhood has always tickled my fancy, with its Asian supermarkets and bustling, crate-filled streets. The landlady was mid-fifties, friendly, and very much the grown-up hippy. The three downstairs rooms were lovely, but the bedroom… it was grotty… and I knew that second that it was a no. Steve wrote on Facebook, “How could living with a belly dancer be anything other than awesome?”

Viewing #3 – The mansion

Do I go for a live-in landlord, or do I choose a houseshare? Well, how about a hybrid of them both? The mansion sits on one of the roads between College and Withington Roads in Whalley Range and, frankly, it’s bloody lovely: beautiful stained glass front door; a wide and generous hallway; ornate banisters; posh carpets. “I live in the attic with my wife,” said the landlord, as he showed me round. The shared spaces were large, the kitchen was modern, and the room – though not massive – was okay. “It’s £289, all in,” he said. My jaw dropped. Including bills? Yes. For this palace? Yes. Wow! How interesting…

Viewing #2 – the wreck

Tipping rain drummed on the reinforced peak of my anorak as I pushed the buzzer. Nothing. I buzzed again, waited, again nothing. Stepping down from the ramshackle door, I made my way around to the back of the house, between the heaps of broken wood and junk plaster. The yard was overgrown. To the front door again, and this time a knock. The door opened.

Viewing #1 – the masionette

After our sushi-making course, I went for my first viewing feeling rather conscious that I smelled like a fisherman’s fingerbowl. First impressions and all that…

Three-story town house, with good-sized garden. Double room on top floor. 300pcm inc. bills.

said the advert. It should have said:

Maisonette, with ground floor garage and no carpets throughout most of the house. Boarded-up window panel in front door. Poky room with disgusting green walls.

Thanks, but no thanks.

Impromtu barbecue

I hosted a barbecue for seven this evening, without really meaning to. Woody left his fresh herbs under my care during Glastonbury, and they grew and grew during that time. When I saw Clare for lunch yesterday, I suggested that she should come to my house to collect them.

“Why not come for food too?”
“It’s nice out. Why not have a barbecue?”
“Why not indeed?”

Zoe, Woody, Durex, Paul and Ollie all came by too. The house and garden went down a storm, and the company was great. I’m still a little nervous that the house is a long way for people to come too, especially from Didsbury, but I hope that tonight lessened that psychological distance for my friends.

Pea and mint risotto, raspberry meringue, sauvignon blanc

Pippa came round for tea, my second guest (after Dr Jim), and just as welcome. Pea and mint risotto is easy to cook, and less wanky than it sounds. We talked about the ongoing dental work, about last week’s news, about the move, about her arrogant housemate and her planned move to M21. Our grand old chat ended, as always, with me thinking that too long passes between our meetings.

I’d finished Maus, and Pip had finished Perseopolis, so we swapped them. As Pippa’s taxi pulled away, I was already turning pages with a smile.

Kate came home unexpectedly early, which was a nice surprise. I was a bit pissed, but didn’t say anything too stupid, I hope. Matt and Chaw soon arrived too. Chaw said that her friend Kate, who she’s trying to matchmake me with, was coming out to the dogs for Dunk’s birthday. The love-plot thickens, eh?

Let’s go for a green, star performer… again.

We had a little party for Dunk’s birthday. Kate and I made a cake, and iced it red. Gethin and Cara came round, and Al and Ander followed. We lit the barbecue, hooked up Spotify and sat around in the garden chatting. Ander was really impressed with the hairdryer on the barbecue trick. I wish I had the video he took of its fiery glory, sadly I don’t. Matt and Chaw arrived later with booze and meat reinforcements.

- insert cake picture here -

I blame myself, but I wasn’t alone. I started it all, but it was the others who made it get out of hand. I’d cued up some Wu-Tang, remembering how much I’d enjoyed it last night. An eyebrow rose here, a foot tapped there; it was going down quite well. Then Dunk disappeared into the kitchen, and here our troubles began. We had an urban interlude.

Regulate – Warren G
Summertime – DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince
Millionaire – Andre 3000 (feat. Kelis)
Concrete Schoolyard – Jurassic 5
No Digitty – Blackstreet

There was a much better collective mood than the last time we played Cranium. I was with Dunk, Al was with Gethin, leaving Kate, Cara and Ander to make up the third team. Dunk, as birthday boy and king of the day, took responsibility for choosing what colour card should be drawn when a team rolled a purple. And the answer was, invariably, Green.

Green – humdinger
Green – cameo
Green – copycat

It’s the most entertaining card to watch, Dunk reasoned, and he was right. The Al and Geth show was the pick of them. What a brilliant night.

Kudos to Blackwell’s at Manchester University, who ordered and took delivery of Dunk’s birthday gift – Maus – in less than 24 hours. I got a copy for me too, and read it into the night.

To be the subject of match-making

Is it a good thing, or a bad thing? Does it put artificial pressure on two people, or is it a good way to meet someone that your friend would recommend for you?

Chaw's friend Kate is lovely. Pretty, intelligent, funny. She likes cycling and growing vegetables. Let's see what happens next!

"I don't like the green ones."

I bombed down to Tall Trees on my bike to catch the Lions game with Woody and Paul. It was a really fast journey, taking about 18 minutes. I braved the Four Banks junction and crossed the Princess Parkway in lane with the cars. Hairy stuff, but quite straightforward once you get over the nerves. Woody had been off work. The argument with Clare had totally blown over. It makes sense – I didn’t think it was very serious at the time. The Lions spluttered a little, but ended up winning pretty well. BOD was amazing, especially for the Fitzgerald try. What a hero.

Kate found the yellow bag of vegetables, and stepped up to the plate when it came to making something pasta-ish out of them: a rich, dark mushroom sauce, almost meaty in its thickness of flavour, delicious! Dunk pretty much proved that tricolour pasta all tastes the same. We drank Dr Jim’s Scottish ale selection. The winner was gooseberry ale, and the loser pine and spruce.

Free food! Twice!

The cute Spanish girl behind the counter in Starbucks gave me a banana when I ordered my latte this morning. If we were cavemen, that would be a kind of flirting.

Dr Jim called. “Hello buddy! I’m in Leeds, and I’m heading to the Trafford Centre on the way home to Chester. Fancy a cup of tea?” Hell yes, of course I do. I explained about the new house, and how to find it, then nipped off early from work to make sure I was home in time.

“I’ve got you some housewarming gifts,” he said, brandishing a pair of bags. Glorious Welsh cheddar! A pork pie! Gourmet olives! Red onion marmalade! Ginger biscuits! Thanks a million Jim, how very generous of you! We popped up to the Quadrant to get some bread, and then had an al-fresco cold tea. We talked through the Lions, their performances so far, our dream teams so far. It was wonderful to see him. He’s been studying like a bastard as well recently, though towards a much more noble end.

I collected my bike from Whalley, and cycled home in the sunshine. I was hoping to run into Ryan, but he was out.

The Thief's Journal

I rode the pilot’s seat (at the very front on the top deck) of the 15 bus to work today. It’s my new route in, and at the time of day that I caught it, the bus seems to head directly into the rising sun. I’ve started to read the Thief’s Journal by Jean Genet, a filthy little horror of a book. I like it.

Kate was working, and Matt and Chaw were out, so I had the whole house to myself. I made mushrooms, tomatoes, and pasta as I listened to some of Kate’s records and then mooched about in my cargo pants. Spotify. Facebook. A bit of studying. And slowly starting to feel less like a visitor and more like a resident. Slowly…

Oh shit, it's the BNP

So, the BNP have won two seats in the North, one of them in my patch, the North-West. I wish I'd voted. I spent the evening online, one eye on Dimbleby, the other on my twitter feed. (follow me? look right to see how!) Ryan was online too. I'm gonna miss that crazy vegan.

England vs Argentina

Clare and Paul helped me move house in the morning. Later on, Nick, Kumbi Paul and I went to the England match at Old Trafford. Our seats were so high up in the East Stand that we couldn't see the top half of the goalposts, and couldn't tell if conversions or drop-goals were successful. And there was quite a lot of kicking. The crowd began booing each time ball went to boot. Daft, in that England were fielding a relatively un-tested centre combination, and were never more than a converted try ahead until very close to the end. Bah!

Nick, Kumbi and I went into Chorlton for a couple of pints after the game. Well, more like five pints, as it turned out. Were they more drunk than I was? Well they had started earlier on, during the Lions game.