New Roommate

Last week I found out I had a new roommate in London. A mouse. The landlady and I were running around the apartment all evening trying to catch the mouse so we could let it go. It was like something out of the Tom & Jerry cartoons I used to watch when I was a child. The building's porter eventually caught him, thus ending that saga.

But not the roommate saga, as her boyfriend came to live in the flat for a few days to look after the dog. He goes to be around 8pm and gets up at about 3am. Very strange hours, but at least he was quiet. Shame about all the cigarette smoke, though.

I'm Not Alone

It turns out that I'm not the only person in my development who's under the age of 60. I've met a couple in the next building who look about my age. The wife is a teacher and will be working at Priestlands up the road next year.

Rob and I managed to empty my rented storage facility yesterday, and we fit everything in the back of his van. Rather than take all 30-something boxes up the stairs at once, we just put all of them in the garage. I'm bringing them up a few boxes at a time, but I think I need to order some shelves before I run out of space!