A major step forward in the house move was made today. The removal men transported all my stuff from my old flat to the new house. I was totally amazed at how fast they worked. All my possessions – my entire life – was loaded into a van before being driven a mile up the road and unpacked, in under an hour and a half. It was like watching David Attenborough documentary, where locusts strip an entire forest in hours, except in this case my whole flat was emptied and the work was done by men, not insects.
The rest of the day was spent on my own, undertaking the much longer task of cleaning my old flat, ahead of my imminent departure. There was lots and lots of dust, where furniture had stood for over 6 years. I was expecting to find hundreds of dead spiders in the spot of the TV cabinet. There was only one. The dozens I had terminated over the years must have turned to dust. Or been eaten by other spiders. Super spiders.
After filling the bowels of a vacuum cleaner, emptying an entire can of Cillit Bang into the shower and spraying far more Mr Sheen onto the surfaces than is healthy (hallucinations were caused), I can say my flat is clean. Well almost. I’ve still got to defrost the fridge and somehow clean the oven. I must have cooked thousands of pizzas over the course of my tenancy, and rather a lot of mess and stains have been left behind as a result. That’ll be my weekend job. As I said the other day, “I’m Never Moving Again”
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About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
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