And so on Tuesday, 11 June 2013 I got up early, went to my old room, spent a short while on the Internet before becoming temporarily unable to except via smartphone, had the last shower (no shower hose in my new place) and the last ciggy in the Court’s smoking area, took a few sentimental photos, went to the reception and after one year, seven months and nine days checked out.
Despite the photos I didn’t feel much sentimental. I had spent a reasonably comfortable year and a half there, but all in all I was fairly keen to move. I didn’t regret I would no longer hear at night the Spanish lass in the opposite room giggling at the telly as though she were on weed, or tipsy smokers conversing behind my window.
And I had other things to think about and do. After a dram at my new place to mark the end of an era I went to have – for the same reason – a haircut, bought some more amenities and continued cleaning and improving the flat. There was a lot to do. To be honest, still is. After all, the building is about the same age as me.