A Flat to Let (*spoiler alert* 2 of 2)

Having failed on the first day out I figured I'd better keep at it. I started checking the listings on my phone until it became compulsive to the point where I'd look for stuff posted in the past 24 hours and be disgusted that nothing amazing came up. When anything half-decent was issued I'd ring "RightMove is connecting you" and ask for the earliest appointment they had. The agents on the other end either couldn't care less and wished I'd never have lived let alone called them, or demanded all my details and knew more about me than my father by the end of the conversation. The first that I was set to see was cancelled when I called to confirm, as was the second and third. The fourth seemed very promising and I took the morning to truck it into the city centre, paid to park, arrived early, only for the agent with a smirk on his face to say "Bad news, chap, it's just been let. Someone overseas sight-unseen." His advice was to wait a month as the influx of students was causing a huge spike in demand. A month! I couldn't sit still so I kept up the hunt but the majority were cancelled, and the very few I did take the time to view were crossed off the list within moments.

And then it happened - a unique house with neat furniture, lots of space and a really cool location. I saw it only ten minutes after it was posted and called and secured a viewing - though I soon learned it was a block viewing (open house). Unwilling to let it get away I asked my agent for advice - should I just throw down on it right now? She steered me away from that and even when I asked her to weasel me an early viewing they told her they didn't take deposits without viewing anyhow. I went down that very night, walked the hood, peered over the gate, calculated distances, scoped the "local" pub, even walked the canals to the train station. Then the next day with my weekend coming up I glanced at the listings again (as I was prone to do) and didn't see my chosen one on the list. Sure enough the landlord had taken it off the market for more renos and would be putting it back up around Christmas. I was heartbroken.

A site visit for work took me out of the housing bubble for a few days which was fine as my agent had arranged another day, this time for myself and my newly arrived colleague, Heather, for my first day back from site. Work commitments nearly had me miss it but I made it back in time. "And a good thing too," I thought, as the very first property had real potential. "One of us will take this" I reasoned until I saw the second and fourth properties (3 was in a neat building but was crap) and realised that there were OK properties available after all (in part because our budget had forcibly expanded.) By lunch I had a favourite and Heather was debating between two and magically there was no overlap.

But I had a hunch about the next place. In a slightly off the beaten path location, promising a rather uncommon balcony, and actually coming in just under budget I really hoped it would be swell. When we arrived through a sea of street art only to have another tagalong on our viewing and only five minutes to view it, the odds seemed stacked against me. Then I stepped out onto the balcony. Woo-eee that needs to be considered.

My agent was against the location and even against the carpets and wanted to get me out of there but I quickly snapped some pictures and then we had to rush across the city to be 25 minutes late for an overpriced but ok flat. The rest cancelled except some hole I'd already viewed and before I knew it the time was 4:15pm and the pressure was on to try and reserve something by 5, lest the day slip away and all the viewings be let, leaving it all for naught and having to start again. I asked to drive by the neighbourhood again as I hadn't explored it before.

With time ticking and both my female companions silently telling me not to pick the balcony something inside me kept calling for it to happen. (But you already knew that because I tipped my hat paragraphs ago.) Not being overly decisive we called to inquire further and then had a back and forth with the agent who had to call the absentee landlord. Nothing was accomplished before day's end and my agent reminded me that if I didn't put an offer in on anything that I was likely to lose out. That evening I mulled and I explained and I received pep talks and by dessert I was pretty sure and then by 6am my dreams were waking me to get it going. I managed to wait until 9:03am before I called to follow up. 

No landlord response. No confirmation. More paperwork. No callback. I was getting anxious. 

Texts were sent and answered but still no resolution. End of business day came and went and my agent reminded me that any chance of a second choice was essentially gone but by now I was determined. Then the phone rang. The letting agent had been in touch with the landlord. 

They would cover the cost of the extra cleanup. They would accept my one year lease with a six month break clause. They would take it off the market. It was mine! 

Well in two months when it closes it will be mine anyhow, and I sure do hope it'll be worth the effort, and the wait.

A Flat to Let (1 of ?)

Figuring I would take the first week to settle in and have a look around by the time Thursday rolled around I was excited to go find my new abode. Having decided to stick with a metropolis I was looking for a city centre place as I'd be relying on one of the three central train stations to get me to work (and wherever else in Britain). With a relatively clear idea of what I was looking for, a vague understanding of the neighbourhoods, and what I hoped was a healthy budget, I was picked up by my agent for a day of viewings. And what a busy day! She handed me a printout upon which she had arranged 12 timeslots with a few additional places to be slotted in where appropriate. However the package came with a caveat that two of the agencies had called just moments prior to let her know that the flats had already been let. No worries - we'll have time for the extras.

Off we bustled in her Range Rover where we met the first agent and were shown a ground floor apartment obviously lived in by a couple of female students. It wasn't horrid but I didn't get any swelling of excitement either so I was glad when out of earshot of the selling agent my agent confirmed that we could definitely do better. On we carried to the second appointment, however along the way a call came through the car speakers to cancel the noon showing. "Do you have any other similar properties that we could potentially see?" to which the answer was that they'd take a look and let us know but it didn't sound promising. The second place was quite nice - floor to ceiling windows on two walls - but it was a shoebox. Having some free time due to the cancellations we went for a cruise to get the lay of the land although this wasn't so simple as the main roundabout in the city is closed for months of repairs.

In that time a couple more cancellations rolled in off the wires and I began to sense consternation from my agent. We stopped for a coffee (ok, OJ) and then went to meet the next man. Except he didn't show up - we double checked the location and called his agency and waited and waited some more. Fortunately we had the time to spare before the next viewing and this was in a sought-after complex so we did want to give it a chance. Eventually we connected with him and he could not locate the keys but he was still looking. Ok... so we waited some more. Nearly an hour after scheduled date we were ready to give up and move on when he came toddling down the canalside having located the key. Following him over the bridge and around the building he took us back into the exact same entrance as the shoebox we had just seen. Ugh. In the end it was a slightly different layout, with a balcony, but the balcony was only slightly above street level and the furnishings were in disrepair with the apartment itself not far behind. No, thank-you.

Having wasted the hour we were pressed for time and scarfed down a burger, stuffing my pockets with chips to eat on the way (not really) and we were still late for the next viewing. This was a shame as it was the first place I could see myself living in. I had to look past the grime but I could see it. But no time to dwell, we were already late for the next. It was memorable only for the six Turks who joined us and had a powwow on the patio. The final spot was really neat, with a balcony overlooking a churchyard running the full length from bedroom to living room, but it was a one bed and it was pricey. At the end of the day there was nothing I could get excited about and didn't want to settle.. surely I could find something to be happy to come home to for the next two years!

I Made a Mistake

Rounding out a 90 minute, Friday night drive that had turned from dusk to dark along the way, I was more than ready to get out from behind the wheel. The pressure on my bladder played into that. Sure enough, Gypsy, my GPS, instructs a left turn but the Diversion signs say otherwise. No problem! Carrying on a straight and two lefts are surely the same as one left. However after I make the first turn she starts yelling "Make a U-Turn in five feet" and "Make a U Turn! Now Dummy!" Okay, okay.. except this is a very tight road carriageway and there are vehicles parked on either side. Eventually I execute the desired manoeuvre and am back at the original traffic light, looking to retrace my steps. I'm halfway through my right hand turn when I stop short. Something's wrong! You can't make turns on red here. Phew! Luckily I caught myself!

But wait a minute, why is this car turning into me, and why are they coming from the wrong side?? Oh flapjacks! I'm on the wrong side and I have been since the U turn! Spying what should have been my traffic signal flash yellow before green I look around, double check where I'm supposed to be, and ease back onto the left side of the road.

Profile:English Bloke

[Ed. Note:Please read all of the italics in my terrible impression of a thick, English accent]

Wutsdatiimdaremate?

Sorry?

Wutsdatiimdaremate?

Oh, uh, eight twenty.

Ah, you're American then?

No, Canada actually.

Whereabouts in Canada are ya from?

Toronto.

Terronno. I've heard of that. 

What about you? Where are you from?

Moved up here from the Black Country. - Layla, chill!- Know why they call it that? It's not like there's a lot of black people down there, no. <laughs> See there was lots of industry and all the smoke turned everything black.

Right. What brought you here then?

Had to move for work. Lost my job down there. Went on the dole. - Quit it, Layla- My landlord kicked me out - I was up to date and everything! Took my furniture...

...that sucks... Um, so what kinda work do you do?

I'm in building production; work for myself. Well, I'm starting off anyway. 37 years old! Starting a bit late! Got my plumbing certificate last year. -Chill Layla!- Went to a plastering course this week - went to a plastering course Monday and Tuesday. Yesterday I woke up at 4 in the afternoon so I gotta start another new course. -Layla!- So how long you been here?

I've only just arrived - about three weeks.

So you must not know anybody yet! That's alright, mate, you'll meet people here; they're pretty friendly. Well some of them are assholes.

Ha! That's everywhere.

I should give you my number - we could go down a pint sometime. You must not know anybody yet.

It's a bit tough to settle in when you're hotel living.

Yeah, we should go get a drink sometime. But I don't have my phone so we can't exchange numbers.

<exhales>

I'm usually here walking my dog so I'm sure you can find me.

Gotcha. That sounds good. Anyhow, I've gotta go find some dinner.

Dinner?

<inhales sharply>

Well there's Dickies - that's like KFC y'know? - that's nice. Chicken there is nice. Pizza there is nice. Chips there is nice. Everything there is nice.

Dixies? Great, I'll keep that in mind.

Or there's... well there's... don't go to the other chippy place. No, every time I eat there - the next morning <points at stomach> got a bug, y'know, mate? No, don't go to the other chippy place. Dickies is nice. Chicken is nice there. Chips is nice there.

Thanks! I'll be sure to skip it. Catch ya later.

See you around. If you ever want to go for a drink...

Ok, take care!

...

...

Hey! Mate!

<turns hesitantly>

One more thing, just have to ask.. How's it like having Justin Bieber as a countryman? <laughs><laughs> If there's one lad I'd like to punch in the mouth..

Drive to England

It was days before Christmas when a director asked if I'd be interested in a drive to Warwick which caught my attention. I had thought about it but had never driven in England before and was certainly intrigued by the proposition. Before I could get started I had to speak with a few other higher-ups but managed to find out who had the keys. Convincing them to lend me the vehicle was no problem and I even avoided the embarrassment of climbing into the left side door only to find myself in the passenger seat. However the journey itself was to have many more twists, after all this was a new country with new laws, roads and etiquette - all of which I would have to pick up along the way.

Right off the bat I had to merge onto the highway motorway but the speed limit was posted nowhere! There was only one other car around so I checked my speed with them and then pushed it as fast as I dared. Little did I realize there were unseen photo radar cameras checking my speed throughout which I slowly clued in on, picking up on the signs - piecing together which symbol meant what type of radar.

Now I didn't have an exact roadmap but knew the general direction and figured it should take me a certain amount of time to arrive. The trouble was negotiating these narrow roads, sometimes amounting to little more than a lane just over a small vehicle in width, with no shoulder and hedges on one side, stone walls on the other. Little room seemed left for error, especially with seemingly every corner being blind. And on top of it all - the twists and turns, or to be more accurate, how to drive in a roundabout. Do I have to stop? signal? Which lane should I be in? Is that my exit? Or that one? That says M55 but why isn't it marked north or south? Uh oh, I got out too early! Why didn't I just do another loop?! This happened a few times which caused some setbacks and delayed progress but fortunately at no point did I stall - a legitimate concern before actually shifting with my left hand which came quite naturally.

Now I knew I was definitely on the right path and had started to get a hang of driving on the left. ("It's the left, right?" I asked and reassured myself innumerable times at the start.) However I still did not know the correct speed and was tempted to pull into a lay-by and try to look it up but was afraid that if I pulled in I would never be able to merge back on the path and so I continued steadily towards my destination, already long past my expected time of arrival. "If you're going through hell - keep going!" as rapped by Birmingham native, Mike Skinner of The Streets.

Just as Warwick was becoming visible on the horizon I found myself in a roundabout with traffice lights inside of it, a transport truck  lorry behind me and an imposing double decker bus sat directly in front of me. Now I thought I had prepared for everything, was comfortable changing gears when necessary, knew which exit I wanted to take, and had already paid my bridge toll to get here when I was blindsided as my map fell off the dash. In lunging to catch it I snapped the windshield wipers on just as the amber light lit below the red in preparation for green. I was flustered to say the least but had to keep going so snapped it into first and pinned the gas. I darted for the next exit hoping it wouldn't lead me down a long, narrow road with unknown tolls and who-knows-how-long before I found a roundabout to circle back in U-turn fashion just to return to this same point. It was sometime down this road before I confirmed that I had indeed made the correct choice and was really closing in now.

Throughout all of this I heard more than a few time from the backseat, "Are you there yet? Are you almost there yet? Are you excited!?" to which my honest reply was "I'm really not sure. I hope I'm headed in the right direction but won't really know until I arrive. For now I'm just focusing on getting there."

Then there I was, basically at the city limit sign and a call rings through my Bluetooth asking if I want to turn this car right around and go home. Of course I do not, especially after coming all this way and the mental preparation that has gone along with it, and so we hash it out and it is agreed that I should carry on. And I do, driving into the city gives a sense of having arrived. For now I'm circling the blocks but all that's left to do is find my exact address.

Dismaland - Bemusement Blog

Welcome to Dismaland.

[Click on photos for full image/slideshow!]

When the Bansky-led exhibition was first announced and I realized I could actually attend I began getting excited. After managing to secure a highly sought after ticket, for the Run the Jewels Friday night no less, I could barely contain myself for the week leading up to it. Even with all the hype (which I did my best not to read once I knew I could see it for myself) and the anticipation I was still impressed. Expectations were met or exceeded on all fronts. Please enjoy this small sampling of my perspective of the Bemusement Park.

Killer Mike who performed later as one half of Run the Jewels - with the pickled unicorn

Killer Mike, DJ Trackstar and El P - with the Gun and Chain

Cinderella with the Princess Di paparazzi

Inevitable