Pulling an all nighter

So, the countdown is on to another trip to Poland.... Now that I live in the sticks I have decided to splash out on a minicab to whisk me into Victoria, to pick up the coach to the airport at a very reasonable 2.40am. My flights at 6.10. Lovely.

Off to a wedding outside Gdansk which I'm nervous about to say the least. Not only do I have to meet the parents again, having reneged on my promise of January to have "learnt Polish" by the time I returned, I also have two days of mingling with people I don't know in a language I don't understand. Oh, with gallons of vodka thrown in. I don't know what I'm more concerned about - the language barrier or my ability to last the pace....

I'm sure it'll be fine - another step into the unknown but it's character building. And I get to be a date at a wedding for the first time ever which is nice. Maybe at some point I will manage to turn up to such a function with my girlfriend and the mutterings amongst the senior family members might die down.

I've taken the late night as an opportunity to sort out my room. It's massive, as previously mentioned, and I had this image in my head of some sort of studio apartment-style room displaying my interior designing, young professional bent. In reality, it looks like a living room that someone is using as a bedroom...

I've resisted the temptation to hook up the piece de resistance - the telly - and it is remaining in its box until Monday when I will have a whole day to savour it, seeing as I have to scrape my broken body onto the return flight at ten past nine on Monday morning after two days of toasting the happy couple. I'm impressed with my willpower on the telly front - one day I might try and direct it towards quitting the fags.

I've made a bed

I make that +10 Man points for me......?

Of course, the fact I have 9 screws left over, one of which isn't even in the inventory, only adds to the masculinity of the whole thing.

Can't wait to get into bed only to find it collapse around me like one of those clown cars from black and white movies.....

Hallo! Wie Gehts?

Bizarrely, since moving to my new house and hijacking Craig's internet connection, my blogger is now coming up in German. Which makes me think of lots more potentially common key words.

and we wondered why we always had allergies....

After four and a half years living in "edgy", "vibrant" and "alternative" Brixton, I have relocated to the suburbs, for a life more befitting a man who now has more grey hairs on his head than he can count.

Whilst cleaning my old bedroom, it became apparent there was a bit of dust about the place. In this case, a "bit" equating to "a lot".

It's honestly the dustiest flat I've ever lived in - it's not just that we were clatty bastards, honest. Considering it was laminate flooring-tastic and there were virtually no soft furnishings, we remain at a loss to explain where the bloody stuff came from. My theory is that there was a cleaner who was murdered years ago in the flat and this is her revenge......

Moving time again

Not actually "moving time", you understand, in a weird Denzel Washington movie kind of way. Although that would be cool.

No, the time has come again for me to pack my knapsack with all my worldly possessions and mosey off into the sunset. Another year's lease expired, another change of postcode. I make it that this will be my 15th different address since leaving home at the age of 18 - any wonder I can't get any credit. That may or may not have much more to do with my rubbish financial acumen, but I'm willing to believe it's purely because I'm the residential equivalent of a ninja - as soon as you think you know where I live, I'm gone... The longest I've stayed in one place was 15 months, which ironically was also the shittest place I've lived, seeing as my room was about the size of a shoebox and the guy that lived behind me liked to take out his frustrations by hurling dinner plates out of the window.

But as of Saturday I'm off again, although this time it's to the pleasant suburban delights of West Dulwich (or thereabouts). No longer will I reside in "edgy" and "up and coming" Brixton - after four years I am moving to a more genteel environment with a garden and a conservatory. And a feckin massive bedroom, given that it is supposed to be the living room (as demonstrated by Craig in the picture). It might not be for very long due to the expiry of the lease on the house in November and uncertainty over who's doing what afterwards, so I may find myself on house number 16 before much longer. I also have to buy a bed which is a bit of an expense, but then I suppose it's the kind of thing I'm always likely to find useful.

I'm supposed to be packing at the moment but can't quite motivate myself. Oh, and I'm supposed to be buying the aforementioned bed. And booking a van to move me to South East London and J to Portsmouth (sniff). I might start tomorrow.