Just so you know we've been trying has hard as we can on the house front...we started with people we knew well - a good friend, and Calypso's cousin. As these are people I know and like, I'll skimp on details :) But after a few weeks of hope, neither turned out to be able to live with us, which was a shame. We then moved on to people who moved in the same circles:
Alzarius
Remember Alzarius from the quiz? Right. Turned him down on the basis that, as a geek, he Absolutely Positively requires the internet hard-wired into his brain, and we love having an internet free house.
Fake!Friend1
Met her at a club on one of the LGBT nights out. TERRIFYING. Charming, witty, very friendly, but looks JUST LIKE FRIEND 1. Same short hair. Same sort of face. Same dress sense, and slouch, and jewellry picks. Drinks the same drinks. As far as I could glean, same interests too. Oh, and is also called "Friend 1". On the one hand, this is a pretty excellent reason for her to live with us: while on the whole my Friend 1 wouldn't exactly fit the quiet, party-free house we are running in Acton, she is an intelligent female activist, and at least I know she's a good pal and great person. But on the other, OHMYGOODNESSCREEPY. Unfortunately, she couldn't get out of her contract.
Miss Polypluck
Also couldn't get out of her contract, and I'm still not sure whether I'm glad or not. Another one of Calypso's activist buddies, pretty perfect. She wanted to get out of Kings halls because they wouldn't let her play her drums, sax and keyboard there. Obviously, this would almost have been excellent: we've a garage for her drumkit, and I wouldn't say no to having a keyboard in the house. But I don't know. Everyone turns into a bitch when it comes to music. Bar none. I include myself in this, and can envisage the atmosphere turning instantly unpleasant when it comes to sharing and arranging rotas or, worse, if I were better than her (or she better than me...)
Mr Novello
The first of a very long line of very gay men. Spirita pounced on him at SOAS, having overheard him talking about his flathunt, and invited him straight home. Calypso showed him around while I did a whirlwind tidy ahead of her. He was soft spoken, very poised and careful, and didn't seem to mind the mess. His favourite film is Brief Encounter ("us too!" the three of us squealed. It is basically our joint-fave movie), but he was something of a cineaste. I couldn't help but ask him if he'd seen The Lodger - 1920s silent film, about a mysterious lodger who might secretly be Jack the Ripper. He had, and took the question in good faith. In many ways, he was ideal - he would hardly ever be there, and because of the age gap, wouldn't want to be our pal in a dynamic-disrupting manner. But Calypso had a bad feeling about him, in the way one reasonably might of a stranger Spirita had known for 30 minutes, and fortunately, he only wanted four months out of the six month contract, giving a substantial reason to turn him down.
At this point, we started advertising, bringing us an unwelcome influx of foreign students. Which sounds mean, but not wanting the internet remains my chief aim in finding a roommate. Impossible? Probably, but foreign students are naturally going to require the internet to keep in contact with those abroad. It was at this point I agreed to cave on the internet front, and am still rather gloomy about it. It's not that I don't want to get in contact with you all; but having the ability to do so (in the form of the net) is a constant reminder of your absence. When no one has emailed/messaged me, it's not because you forgot to, didn't want to, it's because you physically couldn't. Which sounds pretty clingy and pathetic, and perhaps it is, but it turns the Acton House into a very calm, relaxing space where I can go to unwind from absolutely everything. Calypso keeps referring to it as a "safe space", which is a technical concept that, in this context means no fellas, no conservatives, no hateful people. For me, a safe space also entails the internet's absence. Incidentally, this isn't an excuse for you to stop calling, texting and sending me health packages with cigarettes, pin ups, warm knitted socks and Queen Alexandra tobbaco tins...
La Dolce Vita
Visited, and was adored by my fellow housemates. I didn't meet her, but she was The One for about a week until she couldn't get out of her contract.
Tempus Fugit
Mr Fugit was actually one of my favourite people we interviewed, a small and rather timid fella with a lovely smile. He was very keen to make sure we were OK with lodging with a guy, and made sure we knew he was gay and therefore non-threatening, in a manner which I thought rather sweet. Too expensive for him, though.
Senor Espania
Oh God, this one is almost too recent for me to want to go into. Lovely. Lovely, lovely Spanish guy studying fashion design - hobbies, cooking and cleaning. Which is a combination that makes more sense if you understand that we put some adverts up in the queer-friendly sections of the internet. Again, much like being smacked over the head by the nightmare transpeople must have navigating public facilities, I've suddenly realised how much it must suck to be a homo in search of a home. On top of all the other problems associated with finding a room, you'd have to find roommates OK with your other half.
He came to visit with a friendly interpreter - he is learning English at present, but is very timid at speaking it. The four of us got on famously. Argh, curses be upon everything! It turns out he couldn't afford it, but then suggested maybe he could share the room with someone. Which we were actually cool with - especially when we discovered the friend would be Miss Interpreter.
Senor Espania and Miss Interpreter
Which was fine and peachy, and legal, and everything was set up to sign the contract until fifteen minutes before the landlord was due to arrive. Still can't afford it. A flurry of obscene texts followed this news. Which is probably good on some level, because a five person house wouldn't be ideal, but then again it is now three days away from our deadline...
Mr Poland
Replied to the ad in frustratingly chirpy broken prose, peppered with ellipses, but had problems coping with "you are not a student and would therefore need to pay Council Tax".
Caviar
Referred to us via her brother's cousin, or something, but only wants to live here for three months. Might actually be an option, at this rate...
Mr Belgium
Our Landlord has informed us that we have to find an English student, so we didn't bother getting in touch with him.
Miss M.
Found somewhere else out of the blue.
Alzarius II
We asked again, now with the offer of internet, but he couldn't be parted from his busy social schedule before Monday morning. This being the only excuse, under the circumstances, I think I might like to kill him.
Candida
Visiting this weekend. Fingers crossed.
???????????
Well, I'll tell you about what happened last night in another more narrative post, but as you can see - we've been busy. We've exausted everyone we've ever met, scoured Facebook, shrapnelled the internet and plastered not only our campuses, but every London university with posters. At this stage, I am not sure what else we reasonably can do. As you can see, however, it is not for lack of effort - and our Landlord has offered to dock the cost of the spare room by 50% if on Monday we have no one and need to cover it ourselves.
This obviously would not be ideal. If only because the stress of finding someone has been dangling heavy for about two months now, and I can't take much more of it. It's like a constant weariness, like there's always a task to accomplish. But it could be worse. A friend has informed us about his last lodger, who was a really sweet old lady who gave him cookies, and then turned out to be an international confidence trickster who stole £800 from him over a few months!!!
Alzarius
Remember Alzarius from the quiz? Right. Turned him down on the basis that, as a geek, he Absolutely Positively requires the internet hard-wired into his brain, and we love having an internet free house.
Fake!Friend1
Met her at a club on one of the LGBT nights out. TERRIFYING. Charming, witty, very friendly, but looks JUST LIKE FRIEND 1. Same short hair. Same sort of face. Same dress sense, and slouch, and jewellry picks. Drinks the same drinks. As far as I could glean, same interests too. Oh, and is also called "Friend 1". On the one hand, this is a pretty excellent reason for her to live with us: while on the whole my Friend 1 wouldn't exactly fit the quiet, party-free house we are running in Acton, she is an intelligent female activist, and at least I know she's a good pal and great person. But on the other, OHMYGOODNESSCREEPY. Unfortunately, she couldn't get out of her contract.
Miss Polypluck
Also couldn't get out of her contract, and I'm still not sure whether I'm glad or not. Another one of Calypso's activist buddies, pretty perfect. She wanted to get out of Kings halls because they wouldn't let her play her drums, sax and keyboard there. Obviously, this would almost have been excellent: we've a garage for her drumkit, and I wouldn't say no to having a keyboard in the house. But I don't know. Everyone turns into a bitch when it comes to music. Bar none. I include myself in this, and can envisage the atmosphere turning instantly unpleasant when it comes to sharing and arranging rotas or, worse, if I were better than her (or she better than me...)
Mr Novello
The first of a very long line of very gay men. Spirita pounced on him at SOAS, having overheard him talking about his flathunt, and invited him straight home. Calypso showed him around while I did a whirlwind tidy ahead of her. He was soft spoken, very poised and careful, and didn't seem to mind the mess. His favourite film is Brief Encounter ("us too!" the three of us squealed. It is basically our joint-fave movie), but he was something of a cineaste. I couldn't help but ask him if he'd seen The Lodger - 1920s silent film, about a mysterious lodger who might secretly be Jack the Ripper. He had, and took the question in good faith. In many ways, he was ideal - he would hardly ever be there, and because of the age gap, wouldn't want to be our pal in a dynamic-disrupting manner. But Calypso had a bad feeling about him, in the way one reasonably might of a stranger Spirita had known for 30 minutes, and fortunately, he only wanted four months out of the six month contract, giving a substantial reason to turn him down.
At this point, we started advertising, bringing us an unwelcome influx of foreign students. Which sounds mean, but not wanting the internet remains my chief aim in finding a roommate. Impossible? Probably, but foreign students are naturally going to require the internet to keep in contact with those abroad. It was at this point I agreed to cave on the internet front, and am still rather gloomy about it. It's not that I don't want to get in contact with you all; but having the ability to do so (in the form of the net) is a constant reminder of your absence. When no one has emailed/messaged me, it's not because you forgot to, didn't want to, it's because you physically couldn't. Which sounds pretty clingy and pathetic, and perhaps it is, but it turns the Acton House into a very calm, relaxing space where I can go to unwind from absolutely everything. Calypso keeps referring to it as a "safe space", which is a technical concept that, in this context means no fellas, no conservatives, no hateful people. For me, a safe space also entails the internet's absence. Incidentally, this isn't an excuse for you to stop calling, texting and sending me health packages with cigarettes, pin ups, warm knitted socks and Queen Alexandra tobbaco tins...
La Dolce Vita
Visited, and was adored by my fellow housemates. I didn't meet her, but she was The One for about a week until she couldn't get out of her contract.
Tempus Fugit
Mr Fugit was actually one of my favourite people we interviewed, a small and rather timid fella with a lovely smile. He was very keen to make sure we were OK with lodging with a guy, and made sure we knew he was gay and therefore non-threatening, in a manner which I thought rather sweet. Too expensive for him, though.
Senor Espania
Oh God, this one is almost too recent for me to want to go into. Lovely. Lovely, lovely Spanish guy studying fashion design - hobbies, cooking and cleaning. Which is a combination that makes more sense if you understand that we put some adverts up in the queer-friendly sections of the internet. Again, much like being smacked over the head by the nightmare transpeople must have navigating public facilities, I've suddenly realised how much it must suck to be a homo in search of a home. On top of all the other problems associated with finding a room, you'd have to find roommates OK with your other half.
He came to visit with a friendly interpreter - he is learning English at present, but is very timid at speaking it. The four of us got on famously. Argh, curses be upon everything! It turns out he couldn't afford it, but then suggested maybe he could share the room with someone. Which we were actually cool with - especially when we discovered the friend would be Miss Interpreter.
Senor Espania and Miss Interpreter
Which was fine and peachy, and legal, and everything was set up to sign the contract until fifteen minutes before the landlord was due to arrive. Still can't afford it. A flurry of obscene texts followed this news. Which is probably good on some level, because a five person house wouldn't be ideal, but then again it is now three days away from our deadline...
Mr Poland
Replied to the ad in frustratingly chirpy broken prose, peppered with ellipses, but had problems coping with "you are not a student and would therefore need to pay Council Tax".
Caviar
Referred to us via her brother's cousin, or something, but only wants to live here for three months. Might actually be an option, at this rate...
Mr Belgium
Our Landlord has informed us that we have to find an English student, so we didn't bother getting in touch with him.
Miss M.
Found somewhere else out of the blue.
Alzarius II
We asked again, now with the offer of internet, but he couldn't be parted from his busy social schedule before Monday morning. This being the only excuse, under the circumstances, I think I might like to kill him.
Candida
Visiting this weekend. Fingers crossed.
???????????
Well, I'll tell you about what happened last night in another more narrative post, but as you can see - we've been busy. We've exausted everyone we've ever met, scoured Facebook, shrapnelled the internet and plastered not only our campuses, but every London university with posters. At this stage, I am not sure what else we reasonably can do. As you can see, however, it is not for lack of effort - and our Landlord has offered to dock the cost of the spare room by 50% if on Monday we have no one and need to cover it ourselves.
This obviously would not be ideal. If only because the stress of finding someone has been dangling heavy for about two months now, and I can't take much more of it. It's like a constant weariness, like there's always a task to accomplish. But it could be worse. A friend has informed us about his last lodger, who was a really sweet old lady who gave him cookies, and then turned out to be an international confidence trickster who stole £800 from him over a few months!!!
Comments (1)
You'll probably find a nice quiet guy from Tora Bora with an interest in home chemistry. He'll be willing to pay US$5,000 a week rental, but not for very long...