After I leave Marks & Spencers with my roast beef in a yorkshire pudding dinner, I walk past someone who may or may not have been Gita from Eastenders. So I'm finally moving out my flat and it's goodbye to Belsize Park. I'll miss Belsize Park. I'll miss the guy in the newsagents who sells me lottery tickets."For you Sir, a pound," he says, as if he's giving me a better price than usual. Actually, I won't miss the guy in the newsagents because I'll still shop there. Same with the greengrocers too. They always have more staff than customers in that shop, and they all seem completely different from each other. They all dress differently, like they'd never be seen in the same pub together, or they all come from different parts of the city.
I handed in my notice, am due to be out by the 30th and so the clock's ticking.
I bought myself a tray from Habitat as a flat warming present, before I'd guaranteed the flat. It's a great tray with a picture of a boy with a giant dog pointing towards a hill. (I'll take a picture of it - in the meantime here's the giant chess set in Trafalgar Square).
A couple of weeks ago up on Muswell Hill broadway I was asked if I wanted to buy any drugs. I've not been asked that for years. He was quite a polite fellow and he asked if I wanted any sniff. What's sniff? I tell you a cup of coffee these days and I'm a total mess. I viewed two flats on the Broadway, one a poky student type hovel and the second was huge and seemed a good deal, until a week later it seemed they'd put a different price in the advert than the one written in the contract. Anyway that one fell through, so it's goodbye to Muswell Hill too. I liked Toffs the chip shop and the view from the hill, but the chips were expensive and the Broadway can keep its sniff.
I make my way back down the hill, clutching on to my tray, to search for somewhere else, somewhere better.
