I wish I could say I've not blogged for almost a month because I was on a small Greek island, partying it up in a hippified manner with candles and acoustic guitars and Mythos beer. But that would be last year (I went with my mum, for those of you wondering if they make swimming trunks in tweed; His Lordship's beach holiday form is poor - in the main chuntering about the newspaper being two days old, wanting to go to the old town then complaining about the steps/lack of black cabs).
This year, I went here. Permanently:
I have moved back to lovely, lovely Ealingville. Being not trillionaires we can't actually buy a house in the hallowed W5 area, so have settled for Perivale, a suburb-within-a-suburb. It is full of the classic 30s suburban house built by Percy Bilton in the 30s and some fabulous, faded Deco factories and warehouses (still working to this day, albeit as MOT garages and call centres). All this culminates in the world famous Hoover building- now a Tesco supermarket - and I think I can safely say my local supermarket is the hawtest for miles around!
Being me, I bought my house cheap. And cheap for a reason; before we can start prettifying it up, there's a new kitchen to go in, an overgrown garden to tend and much work to be done on the roof (but not too much... we're planning a loft conversion, how tragically suburban and yet strangely glorious). Then we sort the plaster and chipped interior fittings and loose wires and leaky windows and then we paint.
It isn't pretty now. It took 7 hours (after completion) to actually get our mitts on the keys, as the vendors had underestimated the time and equipment needed to move a three bedroom house with four adults and two kids living in it... so on top of the kitchen (which we knew needed work) there was some severe cleaning to do.
|This is why we're living on sandwiches and ready meals|
'till the new kitchen arrives!