Tag Archives: moving house

The End Of An Era… And A Dead Fish

Posted on July 18, 2012 | 2 Comments

I can’t believe I haven’t actually bothered to mention this yet, but Twinkle is moving out of Castle Cortez… in about two hours time!

After a whirlwind few weeks of general madness and confusion, the day is finally here, and as we sat on the couch last night, mocking wanna-be Jesuses (Jesues? Jesi?) and pondering just how we were going to get her suitcase closed, the reality finally set in.

And then her fucking fish died.

How’s that for symbolism? Two and a half years ago, Twinks and I moved in together, and bought a fish bowl. Then we bought some fish, and named them after characters from Cats… you know, because we’re ironically stagey, which is better than admitting that we’re actually stagey. That just won’t do.

Mister Mistoffelees and Mungojerrie lived a charmed life. They had the very best of fish flakes, got cleaned every other weekend (thank you Twinkle) and had a pump that cost more than my weekly shop, and after eighteen perfectly healthy months, Mister Mistoffelees pops his clogs the day before Twinkle’s due to set off for Lala-land.

Coincidence? I think not.

And so we come to the end of an era. No longer will my possessions me tidied away while I’m still using them, no longer will I be able to get away with shirking fish cleaning responsibilities, and no longer will my fridge be filled with protein shakes. It’s a bit bloody sad, is what it is.

But wait, what’s that over yonder? Is that a light at the end of the tunnel? You bet your bottom dollar is is! And how many Musical Theatre references can I actually squeeze into this blog post?

I can hereby officially announce (seeing as the whole world knows it anyway), that Ms Blondie McFabulous of Blondie McFabulous Does Life fame is moving into Castle Cortez NEXT MONTH. Oh good lord the fun times that we shall have – and the wine. Lots and lots of wine. The movie marathons, the Hallowe’en/Bonfire/Christmas/New Years/Thursday parties that shall play out in months to come, the complicated scrunchie system that will be concocted for communication when one of us is getting some… it is going to be epic.

So stay tuned my lovelies, for a great time of change is upon us, and it is going to be messy.

Now all we have to figure out is what to name the new fish…

RitziCx

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Bye Bye Chez Cortez (Part 2)

Posted on October 24, 2011 | 2 Comments

Estate Agents really are bastards, aren’t they? I mean, have you ever met a nice one? If you are reading this and you ARE a nice Estate Agent please do get in touch (…tumbleweeds)

Despite the fact that I have, in writing, an agreement to a move in date of 21st October and a contract that states ‘the property will be professionally cleaned prior to the commencement of new tenancy’ I arrived on Friday night and the place looked like a student had just rolled out of it. And a bloody messy student at that. When it got to 4pm on Saturday afternoon (the 22nd, a whole 24 hours after I’d gotten the keys) I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. There were new lifeforms evolving in the fridge, a forest load of fungus in the bathroom and dead cat smell in my hall way.

Thank fuck for parents.

Ma’ and Pa’ Cortez showed up on Saturday with Pa’s enormous work van, ready to transport my life. They loaded up, convinced me (after some very tense conversations with the twatty estate agent) to just suck it up and get on with it, and move all my stuff in anyway, and THEN, upon the arrival of Twinkle’s mum who came armed with a steam cleaner, these parental MIRACLE workers proceeded to gut the place.

I think Ma’ Cortez might be a little bit in love with that steam cleaner. I could see her on the verge of stuffing it up her jumper.

Cut to another 24 hours later and FINALLY Twinkle and I are unpacking our lives, with SATC on the biggest widescreen TV you have ever seen (thank you Twinkle’s Army Ex – you were good for something at least) and Irish round for the first visit christening Big Joe with half a bottle of red (Big Joe, Cougar Town – google it. We found him at the back of a kitchen cupboard.)

I swear, Pa’ was on the verge of regrouting the bloody bathroom himself, and Twinkle (whose gross, stained, rented bed was supposed to be removed before we moved in so she could put up her own one… surprise surprise, it wasn’t) had taken the thing to pieces and dumped it outside, but not before ringing the estate agent and leaving a message telling him it’d be outside his office in the morning with a post it note stuck to it.

It was so dramatic that it almost wasn’t worth it, but then, before 10pm (I know), I crawled into my new king size bed with my new king size bedding in my new king size room, with the dulcet tones of Stephen Fry on iPlayer in the background (yes – I have INTERNET connection now. Spotify works and everything!) and slightly sloshed from much wine and manual labour, and I thought to myself… Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.

Introducing… Castle Cortez. Long may Ritzi reign.

This experience has also taught me that I’m going to have to find a man like my dad. Or next time I move I will be buggered. I wonder if Almost Famous knows how to regrout a bathroom?

RitziCx

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Almost Famous Interlude

Posted on October 21, 2011 | Leave a comment

‘Are you having a truly epic Friday?’ 

I asked this after 2 glasses of wine. We’re talking half pints. I take no responsibility.

’100%. You? x’

50%… 25%… less than 10%… I had just got back from visiting my future home. My future home that currently looks like a bomb has hit it.

‘Depressingly crap actually. Apartment drama. Lot’s of wine though. x’

‘What kind of drama? xx’

Ooo, concern AND double kisses. I feel special. I explained the shitty situation, to which AF responded;

‘…Maybe cleaning it will be fun?’

Oh bless his cottons. He does try. I explained that instead, I was kicking ass until it got fixed.

‘That’s another approach…’ he conceded.

That was it. I demanded his presence. ‘When can I see you?’ needy and pathetic, but whatever. We were on wine No. 3 by this point.

‘How’s next Friday?’

Oh Almost Famous. You little legend you. I explained how I may need extra time built in to sort out my post-work stress head face after 5 days of dramatic worklife, to which he replied;

‘Haha, don’t be daft. I’ve seen you in the morning anyway. You don’t have to make an effort for me.’

FFS. I may have to marry him.

RitziCx

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Bye Bye Chez Cortez (Part 1)

Posted on October 21, 2011 | Leave a comment

Saying Goodbye Sucks.

I’ve been an absolute blogging failure of late. I do apologise. In my defense, my entire homelife has been slowly falling to teeny tiny pieces.

I miss my flat.

I miss my flat and I haven’t even left it yet.

My entire life is currently piled up in my living room, 400+ books boxed up, DVDs wedged into suitcases, summer clothing squished into bags with winter sweaters, all those pictures I’ve never hung lent up against the wall, hoping that this time they might actually get a nail in them for a while.

Two months ago I came home from a particularly long day only to find a ‘FOR AUCTION’ sign outside my building. Outside the amazing flat that has been Chez Cortez for the past two years. Nice of the landlord to mention that…

I lived in merry denial for a while but then the stoopid auction actually happened, and mere moments later we got our notice – our landlord had decided to refurbish pre-completion of the sale. Which essentially meant we were out on our ass… in September. The busiest time of the year in my world. WOOOOOOP DI FECKING DOOOO!

So I sucked it up. I trawled the internet pre and post work, hunted for flats, for flatshares (much as I heart Twinkle, the girl is flakey and has a particularly uncertain future ahead of her) and eventually had a line of semi-alright future homes set up for viewing.

Place No. 1: Disaster. Twinkle and I showed up at the ass crack of dawn to meet the estate agent, only to be met with an embarrassed smirk and an ‘oh… are you two not a couple?’ Ahem. Do we LOOK like a couple? ‘This is a one and a half bedroom place. The landlord is looking for a couple.’

Right…

Place No.2: My some miracle, I dragged myself away from work at 5pm (which is UNHEARD OF) and was on the train to meet Twinkle, just hopping off the train at Balham Station when…

‘Estate Agent just called – the place is gone. They just had a viewing and they signed straight away.’

Great. I’ll just go home and drink wine then.

Place No. 3: Another failed viewing and I was on my way home. Twinkle had gone to work and I took a chance, wandering past an estate agents. I popped in on the off chance, and by some remarkable miracle – they had a place exactly in my budget, round the corner, and so I went along to look.

It was perfect (or so it seemed) big rooms, just refurbed – bathroom and entrance hall soon to be refurbed guaranteed before I moved in of course. I took a shed load of pictures and sent them to Twinkle, who checked them out and (despite reservations about the size) agreed that the flat was awesome and we must absolutely snap it up. So I did.

Of course, on Monday when she saw it, Twinkle decided that actually she wasn’t sure all her shit would fit in a room basically twice the size of the box I’ve put up with for the past 2 years. I have to admit… it made me go a little bit like this.

Anyway, I then broke the news to her that I’d been looking – for flatshares AND 2 beds, and that I’d figured this was the best we were going to get. She was rather put out, understandably. In fact, she too looked rather like this ^^^

But Blonde. Obvs.

Aaaaanyway, eventually, Twinkle sucked it up (after I pointed out to her that she was NOT going to find a decent 2 bed for under £1000 a month – her share is £450, seriously! – and if she fancied trying she was totally welcome to. Alone) and decided that she was fine with it. So we signed.

And tomorrow we move. We pack up and leave Chez Cortez and all the happy memories. We go down the road to a place which, this evening, I discovered has not been cleaned as per the agreement with the estate agent, and neither has any of the maintenance been done that is written into the contract (regrouted bathroom anyone? Oh, right. Okay. I’ll live with the mould then shall I?)

Of course I kicked off. Don’tcha be thinking I’m just sitting here drinking the dreggs of an entire bottle of wine from a coffee mug (glasses are all packed) and moping about it. I kicked ASS. I had harsh words. I got the manager of my estate agents’ phone number and have HOUNDED him ever since. Supposedly they are getting a cleaning team in first thing in the morning.

I cannot WAIT to see what happens if they don’t. Twinkle is gonna eat some estate agents for breakfast.

Until tomorrow….

RitziCx

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