Back from Oblivion--Megapost

We finally moved to Nottingham a week ago, and here’s how it’s going so far:

#1 Two hair-raising days at Ikea and a week of more hair-raising activities of furniture assembly later our new home is starting to take shape. If only someone had the energy to carry the roomful of cardboard boxes out. But our flat is really nice, our cats are settling in (I swear they were less harrowed after the flight than I was, and we got them out in record time), and we’ll have a nice, three-week breather before we have to carry a vanful of stuff all the way to the 2nd floor when our stuff from Finland arrives. How much would it cost to hire somebody to carry the boxes for us, I wonder? In the meantime I will proceed to increase my stamina (How many non-Brits does it take to change an innocent-looking ceiling lamp? Apparently two, armed to the teeth with all sorts of sharp and blunt don’t-run-with-these-or-somebody’s-going-to-get-hurt instruments) and bury my head in… well… alcohol? to ignore the coming dread.

#2 Despite all sorts of acrobatic maneuvers, we still have failed to secure a bank account or an internet connection at home. We’re living in hope day-by-day, waiting for the postman to arrive. Is postman-watching a national sport yet?

#3 My detailed account of our NY-LV-LA holiday is still nowhere to be seen. I can blame a multitude of things on this, including two weeks of pack-sleep-pack and fly-drive-shop-shop-sleep-unpack-assemble ad nauseam. But of course what it boils down is the fact that I haven’t had enough time to surf WT, let alone post on it, or update my blog. Must spend more work time on TT. And on the blog. Less time working. Gotta remember that one.

#4 I have successfully began my new job today. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. My morning began with a sluggish walk to the nearest Starbucks. Yes, I was prepared to pay the £10 for a day’s worth of internet, but when in a tight spot, squeeze yer already thin wallet. And what happened? I was unable to get intenet access of any kind, let alone one you pay for. At that point I was starting to worry, considering my options were pretty limited. My second option was a place that offers 30 mins of free internet to customers. I went there, trying to figure out how to arrange my work life according to perhaps two or three half-hour intenet slots. I was able to get online, but my joy was shortlived as I then proceeded to drop my mobile on the floor. Yes, you guessed correctly, it cracked, and for a grueling five minutes I thought it had gone the way of the dodo bird. Apparently there really is nothing tape can’t fix, as it now works perfectly well again. It was just the thought of being there, with no secure work access (which at that point was still not working and I really need that for work) and no phone, and no way of contacting MrPicky to come help me out. He did arrive, no armour or horse, but at that point I was more interested in his IT magic skills anyhow. And in a very knightly manner he did indeed relieve my distress (which, I might mention, was somewhat acute at that point) and provided much needed moral support.

I have saved the most horrendous part of this gruesome tale for last: all of this happened before 8:30 in the morning. Also before I’d had a drop of coffee.

But all is well, and I’m happy to have started my qualified-for-one’s-job-no-longer-temping life. Despite the fact I have to spend the next week (well, hopefully less but please, really, no longer, right?) working from a café –but they do have FREE WIRELESS (yes, you read correctly. I have free wireless for a month at the café now). Good? I don’t have to make coffee or food. I don’t have to pay the violently expensive £10 per day that I would’ve had the connection worked at Starbucks. Talk about a massive case of lucking out.Bad? Chairs are some kind of ancient torture devices (yes, they look gorgeous, but try sitting on furnishing-meant-to-be-eye-candy for 8 hrs), I have to dash out for a cigarette, keeping a watchful (and nervous which kind of defeats the point but anyway) eye on my laptop, and spending full workdays at a café will get expensive even if I do really only get two cups of coffee and a sandwich in the course of the day. Which I’ve gathered is pretty much the minimum if I don’t want my ass hauled out of here in the middle of important wo… oopsie, did I almost say work? Surfing, I mean.

#5 We’re more confident than ever that we made the right move moving here. So the clubs are death traps where you’ll either get shot or stabbed? We prefer being blissfully passed out from early drinking at that time anyhow. And, besides, the rumours are wildly exaggerated. The restaurant-café-bar scene here is truly amazing. Counting the 4-day trip in June, I have spent a total of 14 days in Nottingham, we’ve eaten out every day (we figured last week was the last week of “holiday” (although who was the sick fuck who thought that furnishing a flat from scratch by means of spending 20 hrs at Ikea and then countless days trying to assemble the mess would count as a holiday, inverted commas or not?), twice on some days, and we still haven’t gone to the same restaurant/pub/bar twice. I’m now starting to fear it may well be April before we’re done trying the new places and get to go to 4550 Miles from Delhi, the Best Indian Restaurant Ever.

#6 We finally saw Snakes on a Plane. Yes it was campy. Yes it was good. The fact that we have two movie theatres within a 5-min walk from the flat is blissful, especially since one is one of those colossal, megalomaniacal attempts at Hollywood barrage, and the other one shows independent movies we’ve been downloading till now. Of course the fact that our desktop computer (the mothership, in other words) is somewhere en route between here and Finland and the fact we have no internet to download with have absolutely nothing to do with this newfound love for movie theatres. Or should I say cinemas.

#7 Post-script: When I dragged my feet home, I found my wonderful MrPicky at home, no cardboard boxes in sight, and even wardrobe lights connected (a task I suspected would be completed in the gentle spring sunlight). Oh, and he craved chocolate. Which was a first (men just don't crave chocolate, ever. MrPicky normally rarely even wants any). So we went to the Hotel Chocolat, a chocolate shop in the center. Also known as Heaven On Earth. We even have internet access at home for the moment (sporadic but hey, gift horses, mouths and so on). I think I’ll now take a bath, then read the day’s papers while conducting scientific research into the benefits of chocolate.