The time arrived for me to leave my lovely house. Although all of us in temporary housing were fully aware of the concept of the term ‘temporary’ it was still a bit of shock to receive the email from housing telling us it was time to move.
So off to the housing office to collect keys and have a look at the new place. First impressions weren’t great. Entering the apartment building was fine, it was clean but it smelled of lots of cooking (I have since been in a nearby building that smelled of rotten fish so I’m no going to dwell too long on this). My apartment is on the ground floor (or first floor as they call it here) and when I walked in there was an overwhelming smell of fresh paint – a good thing. And a distinct lack of furniture! It also seemed incredibly small, but then it would after the 3-bed house. Feeling a little bit deflated I returned to Housing to ask about furniture. They seemed surprised there was none and promised it would be there when I moved. Reassurances made, a moving date was set for Thursday.
My lovely house mate Cheryl was scheduled to move out on Wednesday afternoon so Tuesday night was quite emotional, we get along brilliantly and the thought of going back to living on my own was sad. But needless to say Thursday rolled around and I left work at 11.30 to make sure I had everything packed and ready to go. The removal men turned up half an hour early and, 10 minutes later, I was in my new place.
I have to say that although the standard company furniture isn’t to my taste, the apartment looked so much better. I unpacked, put everything away and now find I’m loving my apartment. It’s a good size for one person, there’s enough space for everything I need and, added bonus, as I am on the ground floor I have a little patio. I’m looking forward to getting a table, some seats and some plants out there.
Overall I think I’ll be perfectly happy in my wee home for the next few years.