Yeah, another post with no photos, but firstly I'd need to be home in daylight to take any photos of the flat, and my currently duller-than-Newsnight job is keeping me out of the house all day; and besides I have no damn internet!
First phone call to BT: "Yes, you look all fine to go. I just have to check the line. Can you give me a mobile number to call you back on?" Silence for five days. No phone line.
Second phone call to BT: "Whoops, oh yes, I don't know what he was thinking. You need to pay a £25 deposit because the previous tenant has an outstanding bill. But this is your new number and you'll be good to go." Oh, ok then. I pay the cash. Nothing for a week. Still no line.
Third call to BT: "The previous occupants have told us that their service should be shut down on the 27th so you should have your line connected five working days after that." WTF?
Fourth call to BT: far too dull to relate. At time of writing I'm still on hold (35 minutes and counting) for the servicing department.
As no phone line generally means no broadband, I'm now looking around for another provider. It slightly scares me how much I have come to rely on the internet, for banking, communication, shopping, the lot. I feel like something is off-kilter without an invisible cyberstream connecting me to the outside world.
This partly means that I've been getting out in the world again, meeting up with real and virtual friends (the ones you meet randomly through t'internet) and shopping (Knitwitches silk and mohair, maybe to be plied together and some sock yarn from Easyknits who's just the nicest and most bashful yarn dealer I've ever met - as Claire said, he couldn't even look up "ego" in the dictionary,) all at the I Knit London SnB day - in fact if you look on their blog, there's a picture of some of us on there. After that we went to White Mischief which was also very enjoyable, even if Claire and Lucy did have to guide me past the Skin Orchestra (piercings, strings, blood, bleurgh) with my eyes closed (quite fitting for the event really).
There are a ton of things that I want to do at the moment - finish off the last quilt, the clapotis #2 and start on two pairs of socks (how will that ever happen for Christmas) and then I've decided rather than making something for my mum, I'm buying her some really lovely yarn so that she can knit her own Clap. She is working on knitting something for me but she thinks it's far too big so we'll try on at Christmas. I am just glad that my crafty - in all ways - plan has worked, which was to get her knitting again. Then there are little Christmas presents for lots of other lovely people that really need to get off the bloody drawing board as it's midway through November... given that I started my Christmas knitting about April this year, this is shocking.
A rash promise made after quite a few glasses of red wine means that I have committed myself to emptying the flat of cardboard boxes by the 18th (a nominal date, the birthday of one of the people who was present) so there are a few to go. These are the niggly 'what did I bother bringing that for I guess I'd only end up buying a new one next Easter does that even fit any more I only took it because I wasn't leaving it for him' type boxes. But I'm getting into nesting quite nicely. Most things are unpacked, there's just some reorganisation to be done. It turns out that there is so much fabric that it takes up almost the entirety of the spare room, and the yarn has had to move to the sitting room, on its little yarn legs. It occured to me that I have made the cake but not iced it - all the ingredients from my life are there but the embellishments are still waiting to be attached before it gets served up - curtains to be hung, a table to be assembled (with dinner guests around it, soon hopefully) and paintings to be galleried about the walls. So I guess I just need me a drill. Oh Jesus.
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