Januaryness

(Sheepish).  It's been well over a month since my last post.  I'm ready with my Rosary Beads and Hail Marys.  Or perhaps it would be more productive to simply recount with all the brevity one can muster, a summary of the happenings:

January 1st.  A haze.  Not pleased to note that this could well be another year of vomiting, the likes of which have not been seen since the infamy of Paris 1997-8.

Work: Blah, blah, blah. A sloooooowwwwww start to the year.  Thank god for the likes of http://www.laineygossip.com/ and http://www.gofugyourself.com/ .  Productive?  Not so much.

Then - BANG! ACTION!  Becka comes to visit, and we both neglect to take any photos to document the trip.  I was probably embarrassed about the lack of street cred my crappy little Olympus point and shoot inspires.  Becka was exhausted after spending so long country-hopping and just wanted to chillax.  Happy to be a part of any chillaxing going on, I made sure there was always yummy food to eat, an outing or two when required, and plenty of red wine, followed by a wee dram or two if that's the way things were going.  Basically, it was just bloody lovely to catch up after almost 2 years of fleeting exchanges.  Wow, that seems like an age ago.  Here's a couple of photos we did manage to scrounge from our Tullibardine whisky distillery tour, which turned out to be really great.  It was just us, and the incredibly knowledgeable and enthusiastic South African tour guide.  May seem incongruous, but he really knew his stuff, and was very generous at the tasting portion:

Since then?  Stu and I made a loose agreement to try going the rest of January alcohol-free.  Not the strictest of arrangements, we've both had minor lapses over the course of the month - but in reality, we've both felt a lot better for not having had a boozy night for almost 3 weeks.  One glass of red, (an ale for Stu) on the weekend is a nice way to mark the end of another week (they can get a little dreary round these parts in deepest, darkest Januray), and without having any spare cash to go to a film, or out for dinner, it's like a little treat of a Friday night.

Um, the above really wasn't meant to sound as super sad as it does.  Sorry about that.  We be losers.

                                                      

A couple of you may have seen a little post on facebook a while ago mentioning the slightly disappointing news that our flat will soon be ours no more.  For some unfathomable reason (dudes, have you seen the state of the property market over here?  It's, well ... it's not good.), our landlords have decided to sell.  Um, good luck? 

I must admit, at first I was daunted by the monumentally poor timing of this decision, for us as well as them.  I mean, it's just the end of January now, the absolute worst time of the year to be embarking on high-cost financial endeavours like flat hunting (some agencies want 900 quid as a deposit up front.  Like, would you take my first born instead?  It's just I can see that happening sooner than me having 900 pounds disposable cash).  Not to mention the fact that Stu and I have been trying to save up the requisite 500 pounds for my new visa, due at the end of March.  Still, there was no point lamenting the loss and instead we decided to concentrate on finding an awesome new place to live.

The Project - Find a place that ticked as many of the following boxes as possible:

1. Close to, or in Newhaven.  We've really come to love this little neighbourhood of ours.  It's in walking distance to the centre of Edinburgh and Leith whilst still feeling quiet, and it's surrounded by parks and cycle paths (for those bikes we're always talking about planning to think about buying).  It was essential to keep to this side of the city as well, because with Stu's new job in Perth, he needed easy access to the Forth Rd Bridge without having to go through the city to get there.

2. Two bedrooms, or at the very least, a bed and box room arrangement.

3. Open plan kitchen/diner.  We've had to contend with galley kitchens for so long now, it's really disheartening to cook alone (there's not enough room for 2 people in our current kitchen, esp. when one of the two is Stufart, who for all his wanting, is not the useful sous chef he portends).

4. A bath.  Oh god, right now, a bath would be so dreamy.  I'm all stuffed up, and the rain outside is persistently freezing.  What a joy it would be to fill a tub with scalding hot water and soak until prune-y.

5. Be around the same rent, or preferably less, as we're already thinking about how on earth to save up the funds for a move back to Australia in a little over 2 years.  I almost broke my calculator trying to nut that one out the other day.

6.  Be through a reputable agent, or better still, a private landlord who could give us a good deal on admin fees (ie, none).

                                         You know, something like this:

                                             

                                                   With a bit o' this:

                                         

                                                   Somewhere like this:

                                                     

Hmm, ok, so realism was fighting a losing battle at this point.  This was already sounding a lot more like mission impossible than a change = holiday scenario.  Even though we don't technically have to be out of our current flat until early April, and knowing that most letting agents don't even begin advertising flats until about 6 weeks before they're available, we decided there was no point putting off the inevitable.  Besides, our agent said that our current landlords would most likely be amenable to letting us out of our contract early if we found something perfect.

Cue perfection.  No, wait, I'm skipping ahead.  Cue a series of flats ranging from merely disappointingly small, ugly, poorly maintained, or mugger-alley adjacent, to downright disgusting.  Honestly, I went to one a few weekends ago that embodied all of the above.  It was a festering shell of mould, filth and grime, and I could hear the prossies down wind hawking their trade at 4pm on a Saturday.  And it was tenanted!  One can only assume that the current tenants were moving to a warmer climate on account of their Consumption.  Shudder.

                                       

Enter Gumtree.  Oh Gumtree, how do I love thee?  Why do I ever think I'll find anything I want any other way?  You always bring the gold.  Ok, well we did see one amazing flat that was being rented through an agency, it was truly stunning, ticked all our boxes, and was even on budget.  However, on closer examination, the agency in question had a dubious reputation.  I'm definitely in the right industry when it comes to getting the low down, and after speaking to some people, I found out that this particular agency deserved its reputation, more so than most.  Le sigh.  Another dead end.  What's worse, I couldn't get the damn flat out of my head.  I was in lurve, deep yo.

But as in any Rom Com worth its metal, along came the little flat that could.  I was like the proverbial girl who comes to learn that what she really wants is right under her nose.  Last Thursday we went to see a flat (actually, we saw 6 flats - exhausting).  Though her Gumtree ad was one of the worst I'd seen, and the pictures were beyond uninformative, we swallowed our skepticism and made the effort to go along to yet another viewing.  Read:  Walked out the front door of our place, turned left, walked 15 metres, turned left again, then walked another 15 metres. 

Ok, so big tick for location, but it would take more than that to charm the likes of me.  I still had the smell of mould haunting my dreams.  However, upon entering the wide expanse of a hallway, it didn't take long to realise that the only thing this place lacked was a savvy photographer and a snappy brief.  To summarise: A beautiful hallway (if you recall the hallway at Walsall street, that's the size we're talking about, and I can't tell you how unusual that is in this neck of the woods).  To the left once you're in the front door (main door flat, ground floor - again, unusal for our budget), a massive living room.  Massive by anyone's standards - the square footage at this place kicks our current flat's arse.  Big ol' bedroom at the other end of the flat which is going to come in real handy when nanna Mez wants to go to bed at 10pm and Stu wants to stay up til all hours playing video games.  A bath (awesomeness to the power of 10).  Kitchen big enough for me to do some proper cooking whilst being able to pop Stu in a corner grating cheese or something to make him feel useful. 

I could go on.  I won't cause even I'm getting bored now.  Where are the freaking pictures?  Sorry, we're not due to move in til April (the other great thing:  Private landlord, doesn't charge any fees, small deposit we can actually afford, and he doesn't even want a security deposit, and he seems lovely), so no photos until April, sorry.  Trust me - it's pretty.

Done.

But before Stu and I had time to congratulate ourselves for our general savviness (read: obssessive scouring of Gumtree), I became ensconced in the stupor of an evil cold from which I am only just emerging.  More on that later - I have some very humourous observations on the phlegm colourwheel.

Love to all.

M