Flat hunting sounds like fun. Part of it is hunting, after all, and that‘s something even royals take pleasure in. Hence, I was ready for some fun. Worried, as my paranoid nature requires, nevertheless excited.
I arrived about half an hour early (more like 45mins) just to make sure I wasn‘t going to be late. As a result, I was strolling back and forth the street and creeping under the windows of my potential new home. I look around. Cannot find any needles, the smell of pot is not any stronger than usual. Strange tendency – people slowly drive their cars with all windows down, filling the street up with some hip hop rhythms. I scan all the people I see on the street and come up with a conclusion that someone is filming a rap video here and I must be in a middle of it.
Before moving to London, I intentionally informed all my friends and acquaintances about my plans and the fact that I need to find a flat. Although nobody could suggest any realistic options, everyone had a bunch of tips to share. Starting from zones to stay away from, suggestions to find out as much as possible about the
neighbourhood and see what transport
connections are available around. Of course, everyone added not to make any
deals with any agencies. Unfortunately, I never bothered to ask for a
definition of an agency in London.
Here I am, standing in front of a block of flats, pressing the buzzer for the fourth time, and again smiling for the coming
again politely refusing to come inside. Why would I give up leaning onto these
beautiful rails that, judging from the neighbourhood, had already held a number
of stabbed bodies before I leaned on there?
Losing my patience, I text the woman who is supposed to show me around the flat. My head already starts to nod in a rhythm of hip-hop when,
quarter of an hour later, the lady shows up.