Moving to my Best Friend's house

I was finally moving out of the lonely white room in Hendon to spend the last couple of weeks of my London adventure with my Best Friend Georgia. I had a lot of ups and downs in this apartment. Here is what I can remember:

Free internet
Beautiful sunsets every night out my window
Afternoon jogs in the park next door
Always smelt like vanilla
International food shops nearby 
Decorating the desk
Free music off roommate
Often stole biscuits and little things from him 
Being able to cook when roommate wasn't home
Stealing flowers from around the neighbours on my late walks home from work
Using my windowsill as an all purpose table
Smoking out my window

Killing 4 spiders, one massive one that still haunts me to this day. It ran up onto the bed right next to me whilst I was typing. Have never screamed so loud in my life.
Not being allowed to cook or use anything in the kitchen apart from the fridge and toaster. Having to do all my cooking when the evil roommate wasn't home
It was a long walk to the station, and if I forgot anything it really sucked walking all the way back
He never told me where the vacuum was so I cleaned the floor using tissues to sweep up the dust and dirt.
I was very lonely
The neighbours directly underneath my room repetitively played music, the same songs over and over again. And not good music, they played bands like Cold Chisel and Nickelback, and tried to swing. And then they would play weird foreign music that was just a repetitive beat, no lyrics. It was slowly driving me over the edge.
Not being able to open my window without it being really loud because behind my room was a highway. But it was dead quiet when the window was shut.

None of this compares to the fight I had with my roommate. I was supposed to stay minimum 3 months but I couldn't change my flight so I had to leave after 2 months. I told him over a month in advance what was happening and we had a big talk/ fight in the kitchen. I ended up crying because he said he wouldn't give me back my deposit which I needed to basically survive. £300 is a lot of money. He then caved and said fine he would give me my full deposit when I left but that I needed to know that this wasn't acceptable yah yah yah. 

Well the time came for me to leave and I was at the door ready to give back the key after he tried to make me clean the room to make it cleaner then when I arrived to it. He pulled out £100 and I asked where the rest was. He refused to give it to me even though we had previously settled it. Ended our time as roommates having a huge argument, calling him very nasty names and slamming his own door on his face. I don't think I have ever slammed a door so hard. I proceeded to throw various items that were in the hallway at his door (don't know why those things were in the hallway). And screamed my lungs out until I was completely out of the house.

Looking back it may have been immature but what else was there to do? I had been completely fucked over and robbed by this Spanish dickhead.

This was my second journey that day. Before I had dealt with me roommate I had taken half my stuff to G's. And now this was the harder trip, taking the big boy suitcase. I had moved around London a lot in the year but this was by far the worst move I had ever been through. Not only did I manage to somehow run into the boy who was stalking me for a while whilst rushing to get on the train at the station. The first time I met him he had stopped me whilst I was walking home from work and I was slightly tipsy from post work bevvy's so I stupidly gave him my actual number he proceeded to continually call me for a week afterwards trying to organise a date. But I was about as interested in going on a date with him as I am interested in studying chemistry. It was weird though, every time he called me I would say I have work and he would say thats fine we can do it another time and then he would proceed to tell me about his day like I was his girlfriend, like I actually cared about it. I had met him once?

And this night being the second time running into him by accident when I'm in a dead hurry to get on the tube. I gave him a fake number this time, he tried to claim he lost it, but we both know I just wasn't answering his calls anymore. I kid you not, this boy had the audacity to hug me goodbye! I was positively mortified and left as quickly as I possibly could.

After this I then encountered a major delay on the trains, changing of platforms, missing trains and having to catch later ones. Nothing on my journey to G's went right. 

But thank god I arrived eventually and we both went straight to sleep and I spent the next day sorting out my mess of a life.


Her amazing bath. I actually hate that I didn't take more pictures of the house. It was stunning. I kept telling myself "Erica go take photos now you are going to forget" I forgot.

I love my girl and I hope she is doing well. I miss having her by my side every day. I can't wait for her to come home and to have my partner in crime back.

Love you G

With love from London
(Blogging from Sydney)

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