Still haven't moved, any day now. Another gem found in the process of throwing out black bags full of original artwork. This is appropriate to the whole moving house panic I'm feeling now.
The house I was living in before I moved in with H was being sold and me and Quinner had to get out. He was going back to his Ma's but I would have to go and find another house share situation. I had been remarkably lucky in finding rooms in houses where the other occupiers would tolerate my antics, except that Sinead Cashin cunt who is worth about 6 different rants. I was living with Quinner 3 years nearly and it was the perfect environment for my scruddy ways. I know that sham since I was 13 or 14 and he of all heads supported my comic career. I put the feelers out for a new place and most of the places would be just too pricey, far away or small to house the comics operation and the pallet of
MBLEHS.Hayley was anxious that I find the right place too, firstly she didn't want me sharing with women again and secondly it'd have to somewhere where she could call up and stay overnight. Tricky balance.I could write for hours about the horrible limbo
of house sharing, ads in the Herald, lying my arse off about being a 'professional non smoker' when I was the exact opposite, Ugh, it was poxy. I had seen it all and and new every genre and sub genre: The recently seperated middleaged man needing to fill rooms, the student house, the heartless professional house, the Benneton house of 5 different nationalities, you name it, I've gone to look at the room.
Hayley was still living at home and the thoughts of moving in together was not really something I wanted so I was determined to find an new house share thing. She was on the case too and one Saturday we were in the car when she gets a call, her extended feelers had got something that sounded promising from both our points of view: Local, affordable and occupied by a student who's never there and a taxi driver who works crazy hours. Her mate's boyfriend lived there and he was moving out. We were 2 minutes away from it and H knew the address so we dropped by.
First thing I'm hit with is the smell of old people and the little holy water font beside the front door. The decor was of Pope's visit vintage and I got the vibe that who for whoever owned this place, the Pope's visit was the high watermark of their life. I wasn't going to diss it completely though, still hadnt seen my room. I met the taxi driver and he was genuinely a nice person, maybe too nice. In his 50's, single and slightly leeringly nervous. I viewed the room and it was monastic, a bed, a locker, a jesus picture and most disturbing, several photos of young local football teams from the 1970's screwed to the walls in frames. In my mind I was screaming NO!!! but politely I went through the motions. I was freaked out. Then it was stepped up several notches, I met the other inhabitant.
An albino black dude. Seriously. All the negroid features but instead of a black 'fro he it was yellowey white and his skin was paler than mine. I've seen some whacky shit but this topped it. We made our exit and I drew these notes as we drove into town.
That's lil Hayley there with the sniff sniff. I forgot all about that episode until
2 weeks ago when I found the picture. Around a week after that creepy house, me and H were making plans to get a place together. We did. And to be honest it's one of the better decisions I've made.
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