the great indoors

it was already beginning to grow dark when i left the house, although it was barely afternoon. the glorious sunshine had given way to a sort of dull but content grey, and with numb fingers and a shiver that seemed neverending i hurried along old street, my hood pulled firmly around my face, to my first official flat viewing.

and all the while remembering. last night was a delight, watching so many of my friends gathered in the glow from my hastily assembled fairy lights and candles, soon-to-be-regretted smoke curling from their fingers... drinks were mixed and downed, food was thrown into the oven, forgotten about, and then eaten wincingly as the too-hot pastry steamed fresh. if i could gather everyone together, all these people in my life, the friends, colleagues, friend/colleagues, acquaintances, barely-knowns... i'd just never stop smiling. it's something i'm learning and loving more and more, day-to-day, this complete and utter love for everyone who's special to me. and it grows and grows, can only grow, as the tiny intricacies, the tiny annoyances, the tiny endearments make themselves gradually known. the quirks and weaknesses. it's why i don't 'do' relationships, i think. because how can you choose one person when there could be someone just as special round the corner?

and this is, and will be, my downfall. as ever. my first viewing went like a dream. i only met the girl who's moving out of the flat (and within minutes we were giggling and i was promising to get hold of some shrooms for her to try before she returns to the states), but left with the promise of meeting the actual flatmates within the next couple of days. and then, most fantastically of all, i simply walked around the corner to clerkenwell road before heading back to hackney. the sheer thrill of living so centrally would, i think, keep me going for a good long while in the smiles stakes.

so there's one more person to add to the list of fun! interesting! i walked slowly back to hackney, killing time and sipping a bubble tea - possibly the oddest drink ever - and fully preparing myself to dismiss the next flat (having been told, a couple of times, that the room there would only be very small). i think in my head, having been going by the picture on the internet (and incidentally, thank god for that aspect of technology), i was expecting something very modern, very clean, very antiseptic. i couldn't have been more wrong. the room is small, yes - a bed, a set of drawers and bugger all room for anything else - but the flat! oh, the flat! high ceilings, the craziest selection of furniture you've ever seen, a floating staircase... it was like a warehouse conversion, only not in a warehouse. two girls live there, both of whom work in music (and yes, the opportunity to noodle with them and their music biz friends is part of the appeal), and we had a great chat before the probably-insane landlady popped round to get her post and tell me, with a shrug, that i could move in whenever i like, and that her and her partner could help me, since they have a camper van and all. and finally, whilst it's not clerkenwell, it is hackney - and i do fucking love hackney.

now, of course, the practical part of my brain is yelling at me not to rush into anything. i've half-heartedly made another couple of calls to people offering rooms in brick lane for, shrug, affordable sums of money. but i just can't shake the feeling that i've found exactly what i was looking for. my gut instinct when i replied to this girl's ad was right. and it's only a bed to sleep in, at the end of the day.

oh, the decisions...