New home

   

     Today I went to see my new home. Well, I didn’t know if it was going to be my home, until I actually met Maria, the girl who owns the house.  
     But starting from beginning – few days ago I got an email from this girl. She saw my advert on gumtree and she liked Tania and me. I like what she said about herself, and I could feel from the few lines she sent me, that she was ok. But Barking... Shit, so far from my work, I thought. Over 160 quid for a monthly pass. Still, I decided to check it out. I called her, we had a chat, and then today, after work I went to meet Maria and see her place. I found out that the transport isn’t that bad – overground and tube take about 50 minuts, plus walking, waiting, I guess I can make it in an hour and 15 minutes, given or taken.

     Maria was supposed to meet me at the station. She wasn’t there, when I arrived, so I leaned against the wall and waited. It was fun – I was looking at the passing girls, wandering which one could be my “would be” landlord. I didn’t like any of them. So I was pretty much relieved when she showed up. Bit scruffy, different from the crowd and, what struck me most after just few words – very forthright, sincere. I felt connection straight away.
     She showed me the house, we chatted for an hour or more and finally we agreed that it’s a good idea to live together. So in a couple of weeks I’m moving in. Tania will get the plain ticket one of these days and she will join me. Finally, after more then four months of separation. I’m so relieved!
     I feel that things are falling into place at least. I enjoy my work, feel appreciated, start to find peace inside, now this thing with Maria and her house... I don’t know. It feels like the clouds are dispersing.
    What else?

     It’s evening already, as it usually is, when I sit to write. The weather is bad - rain, wind, cold. The vines are scratching against the windows and since my bed is just there, I have to get used to it, if I want to sleep. Sometimes the rats are squeaking and I’m wandering why those poor bastards don’t hide somewhere underground, instead of hanging on the creepers shattered by wind and rain, like some desperate, fur pirates. I’m listening to Camaron de la Isla, drinking wine, and planning to learn new song on ukulele, “Volando Voy”. Dominik invited me to the dinner, pasta with soya chunks, we watched some old Polish cabaret from sixties, I did laundry.
     Take care.
     Yours
     M.