Lifesnaps # 32 - bright lights over wembley

Childhood memories... a stroll past our old home in Chipping Norton...

Mystery Blonde 8 - addicted to mobile gaming..!

Introducing the 'Pad!'

Apologies if this week's Friday blog looks quite a lot like an estate agent's website (I was once an estate agent, y'know... don't tell anyone, I'm not too proud of it) but I'm not trying to flog this flat. Nah. I'm simply showing the world my new gaff - and here it is, in all it's glory!

It'll henceforth be known simply as the 'Pad.'



Life's full of simple pleasures and the simple but vital thing about the Pad is that after 16 months of living with a minimum amount of communal space, this offers a large lounge with not only an open kitchen but also a balcony for summer morning scrambled eggs on toast, or wintery shivers in your pajamas, whichever takes your fancy...



So who am I living with? Well, it's always been hard to get away from the perils of the VEE-TV crowd, a fact that's been proved by the fact that Sam, our inserts director, has taken up residence in the other double room. We've celebrated our first week in the Pad by buying an insane amount of kitchenware, planning the next two weeks of TV viewing, and trying to work out how we get our hands on our own mail. And we've thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.



And perhaps I should say something about the area... well it's out west, but don't get too excited by the idea of cowboys and injuns. West London can be quite civilised - though not all the time.

We're living in Baron's Court, a tube journey away from the delights of London Central, and a short walk away from Fulham, Hammersmith, Kensington, and the River Thames which flows merrily by. Just around the corner (literally) stands are being put up for the upcoming Queens Tennis Tournament - might try and catch a pre-Wimbledon game or two. Or failing that, a portion of strawberries and cream would go down nicely.

Lifesnaps 31

Saying goodbye to the Ghetto!

My room in the ghetto is now bare. It's amazing what your possessions add up to - in my case complete chaos. My packing style has since been much maligned...

I'm not a box man, put it that way. For a start, there's only so many boxes you can carry. And getting doors open as you're mid-carry is difficult. Not to mention getting a break. It's a long way down to the floor when you're carrying 3 boxes at once...



No, I prefer the potential carrying load of bin liners. By lifting your arms you can open doors, while you can always sling them over your back as you're walking. The only slight problem is they can split...

Anyway, all that's in the past now, and as I was saying, it's amazing what a room can be reduced to. I had posters, picture frames (one broke when I left, sniff) and scribbles (of course) all over the walls. It became more than a room. It was a kind of urban paradise. A pocket of Scribbler amongst the chaos and crowds..!

So these are the last few snaps of the ghetto... stay tuned for details of the final night in the ghetto, and the new joint!

James and Haps meet up in NYC!

The Scribbler on Estate Agents

Estate Agents.

You hate what you used to be I guess.
These last few weeks have been full of them. Estate Agents.

They all seem to be young, they all seem to be a hurry and hardly any of them are any good at the essential part of their job: communicating.

I've seen countless flats, spoken to far too many people, and just when I thought things were sorted, they fell apart again. now it looks as though I'm moving to Baron's Court tomorrow. Great! But one catch; I've only got to run around for another afternoon trying to get forms filled out. Forms I've already filled in once, no less. Annoying.

I'm hardly even blogging anymore. I just haven't got the time, or the peace of mind. Everything's feeling a bit clogged up. Because of sales people who aren't that skilled - but keep my housing future in the palm of their hands!

Mystery Blonde # 7 - Blame it on the boogie!

Well it's been a busy week.

First off, I finished working at VEE-TV. Sniff! One week ago Friday, to be exact. It was a sad, sad day.

Secondly, I had to move out of the Ghetto on Sunday. Not because I'd trashed my room or anything like that. No, George and Claire (darn them) decided to go travelling. Not thinking about Zhao and I at all, of course.

So no job, no abode... what's a man to do?

Well, find a job, then find a flat I guess. Simultaneously.Only, that turned out to be a lot easier said than done.

In a blind panic, I searched for affordable (ha!) 2 bedroom flats in London, and got thoroughly messed around for my trouble. In desperation, I took a part-time job in a furniture shop on Marylebone High Street. As you do.

Then the tide turned. As the clock ticked down, I got a flat and a job offer in the same day.

Best of all, I managed to get the flat a bit cheaper than it should have been. I love it when that happens.

Now I'm facing a week in between, moving out of the Ghetto Sunday, and moving into the new flat on Saturday. Where to stay in between? A cardboard box under Euston station. But only for one week, so it could be worse. in fact, part of me's looking forward to it...

A weekend in Lancashire! The Scribbler goes all country!

I'd love to say I missed the smog, crowds and high rises when I ventured north to see Stevie B and Laura a few weekends back, but that'd be a lie. A lie!

So it was that a few weekends back, I escaped,so I did, to the sprawling hills and valleys of Lancashire, and my, did we enjoy ourselves! I grew up in the countryside, and let me tell you when I smelt the fresh tingle of manure wafting up my nostrils, I felt like I was home!

















Feeling like I should at least show my face at their new abode (being best man at their wedding and all!) I ventured north on a Friday eve. Many miles north. My Virgin train service took 3 hours from London to Preston. Fast. I was impressed.

And no, this is not an advertorial for Virgin Trains - (but if they'd like to pay the Scribbler for some advertising on these pages - just ask old Dickie Branson to get in touch!)

Steve and Laura live 20 minutes outside Preston, in a beautiful little house where the bedroom windows look out over hills, and where people give you a nod as you walk out yer front door.

When we went out for a meal in a local pub, the waitress and indeed the people at the next table had no qualms about striking up a conversation with us... not something you get very often in the big smoke, let me tell you that now..!

Lambs are sweet aren't they? We thought about them when we ate a nice joint of lamb that evening... although we shed a tear as we did so...

Sweet, eh? But all I can think of when I look at this photo of the happy couple is I'd better get on with writing that best man's speech. Sharpish.

Further to that theme, we went out and sorted out our wedding suits that very weekend. There, a very nice gent in the suit shop called Len had no qualms about speaking to us for a very, very long time. Nice folks up north, I tell you that now.

The suit was pretty good too, after we'd chatted about colour combinations for the best part of an afternoon..!

Three weeks until wedding time... better get cracking!

Mystery Blonde # 6

Lifesnaps # 30!!

Apologies for the lack of activity of late - the Scribbler has been arranging his life, and not only into snaps!

The Ghetto goes all, er, surreal! New Adventures in Bowls, Afros and Wigs!

This is the Scribbler saying: you wanna mess? Because if you do, you've got me and my afro to contend with... and Zhao in a wig...






















Confused about the sudden er, random nature of the blog? (as if it's never random... but I guess Zhao dressed as a Thai lady who may not be a lady after all is getting more random than usual!)Maybe I should explain...

As I write, we have just one week left in the Ghetto.

Already, things are getting emotional. George is crying himself to sleep every evening, while Zhao, alternatively, is crying himself through intensive study for a Economics MA. Each to their own, I say..! Me? I'm emotional. Who isn't?

Things get more complicated when you haven't found a new flat yet. Oh yeah. And they get even more complicated when the agent letting out the flat you wanted calls you to say that offering to pay the asking price just isn't enough. He wants more!

That kind of thing makes me very emotional indeed. And the main emotion? Anger. Anger, and relief. Why relief? Because I'm not an estate agent any more, and ain't I glad that's so!

Rant over.

And as for a new job, well I ain't got one of those either. It's one of those times that calls for forgetting your problems and letting your hair down. Or at least, putting some fake hair on... as George is testifiying here...
















Suits him, I think!

And let our hair down we did! After a slap-up dinner where Zhao mischeviously burned the roof of George's mouth with a wanton green chilli, what were we to do but celebrate the near end of an era by picking up some bouls and playing a good old game on the Ghetto carpet?





















It just so happened that I had some, er, props from a VEE-TV shoot that day... things got crazier than usual from there.
















No need for more words, I'm guessing. All I can say is don't we look nice in our gear...

You don't have to agree. You know the truth.

Random Scribble # 27

Mystery Blonde the fifth! Espionage Agent...