In Which Our Heroine Puts a Roof Over Her Head

Well, here I am. The great South West, by hook or by crook. And I have to say, initially it wasn't looking like a good idea but things have settled down.

You wouldn't think, with cash in hand, that finding an apartment would be all that hard down here. Looking on the net, there were lots of furnished places that seemed to be going, and I wrote and left messages for the estate agents (in American, that's "real estate agents") thinking that ever eager to make a sale and get commission, they would be eager to help me find a place. Turns out, this is not so. I don't know what if anything the estate agents are paid by the landlord's over here, but rather than the month's rent in commission you'd have to pay them in Boston, here you just pay a flat fee, which ranges from £60-£100, at least here in Exeter. Consequently, the push just really isn't on so much from the agent's point of view. Lots of places don't even "do" letting of places.

It also turned out that I chose the week to come down and look for a place that was the same week that the freshers and the post-grads started at the local Universities (of which there are two in town). So I found myself traipsing from agency to agency, recognizing the same groups of people, almost all of whom were looking for two bedroom furnished flats. It then became clear why just being invited to sit down at an estate agents was becoming a major accomplishment. Heck, now it is two weeks later and I still haven't had a phone call returned from four places. In fourteen agencies, I managed to arrange one place to look at, that appointment would be in three days, I got a phone call subsequently to say it had already been let, and frankly at that point despair was beginning to set in.

All those freshers and post-grads seem to have Mummies and Daddies and require interim places to stay of their own, so it had been impossible to find a B&B or hotel room for under £150 a night, so I had grabbed a bed in a youth hostel. In fact, I managed to grab the last bed in the youth hostel. It was close enough to town and things for walking to all those estate agents, but really it wasn't very nice and being stuffed on the bottom bunk with my feet hanging over the end just wasn't helping the situation any. It was starting to feel as though I just wasn't meant to live here, whatever job I'd arranged, and I was getting more stressed about it as the hours wore on. Yes, hours. Nervous just doesn't cover it!

The answer came, as it so frequently does, by way of my friend Lian. Through my wailing and gnashing of teeth down the phone at her about how horrible it all was, she quickly pointed out that I had one thing that the grad students didn't have, which was an income and therefore I could rent an unfurnished flat and quite simply purchase a sofa and bed and chairs and the like. It didn't need to all happen over night. She made complete sense. Immediately after her, I talked to the Bakers (who I spend Christmases with) up in Bristol, as I was going up there for a home cooked meal and a little TLC the next night. I told them my new plan. Mr Baker immediately threw his shoulder behind the grindstone, and got quite excited in fact. Things were moving quickly. In fact, very quickly, as I had been notified that someone in my new firm in fact had a flat for let, but since it was unfurnished, I had written it off as a prospect. Arriving the next day at the firm to sign contracts and things, I asked if it was still available, and on finding out it was promptly was whisked upstairs to be introduced, and as it turns out, to head out and look at the flat immediately.

It was fine. More than fine – it is great. It is brand newly built, so it doesn't seem to leak or anything, and the insulation and heating are all top notch efficiency, etc. I am the first person to live there, and while I was given the keys right away, I had to take up the sticky plastic they'd put in on top of the hallway carpet to stop construction people from getting mud and stuff all over it. It is also an easy 15 minute walk to work (and an even easier walk home since that's downhill that way). Life was goo again, and so I left for Bristol with a large chunk of life seemingly settled and a huge weight off my shoulders.

The Bakers were incredible in helping, but they really do excel at this sort of thing. While I had been just coming up for dinner and to stay the night since the trains would be late and I wouldn't have to be anywhere the next day anyway, I wound up staying most of the day going through their attic, and having them take me to look at the bed a friend had for sale cheap since she had moved to Australia. I arrived back in Exeter with a box full of cutlery, plates, saucepans, and a radio to make me feel not quite alone in my flat. Even more importantly I had not just one but two types of home made Mrs Baker jam, the pleasure of which cannot be over-estimated.
With my little radio (complete with short wave for listening to cricket commentary) plugged in, I rapidly became addicted to Radio Four, which was a little odd as it kept never being what I expected. First up was "Book at Bedtime" which rather than being a soothing little nighty night story was this week excerpts on the devil from Milton's "Paradise Lost." Not quite soothing. Thankfully it has now finished with that, and is on to Graham Greene. I then recognized the theme tune to the Archers (very perky, very quirky and upbeat, and suggested by Billy Connolly as the alternate to the British national anthem) so I listened for the first time ever. I thought it would all be tepid and rather, well, geriatric, but no. Someone's leaving her husband, telling him that the baby is some other guy's, etc, and then whap, after the high melodrama, there's that perky theme tune again. I was shocked, shocked I tell you! And of course immediately addicted.

Never mind, there was a flat to set up. With still no bed (the Bakers were bringing it down on Sunday, with a spare chest of drawers, bless) I attempted to blow up the air mattress to discover it had a slow leak. Still, sleeping bag on the floor was fine, and much better than the bottom bunk of the dorm room in that hostel. And I thought a hot bath would go down a treat, but it meant that I then had to figure out how to turn on the never before used hot water, and at that moment I was not up to the task. So after a cold bath, and the discovery that totally unfurnished means things like no toilet paper, paper towels, etc etc, I gave up and went to bed anyway. All that could get rectified the next day, and indeed it did. I also got to discover my closest town, which is Topsham. Topsham is very Olde Worlde and pretty with an excellent real ale pub down on the water, and is less than a ten minute stroll from the flat. It also has an incredible cheese shop. These things matter to me.

Right, that's long enough. I have work to do and I'm going to do it. More on starting work later. Suffice it to say for the moment that everyone is incredibly friendly and nice so I'm sure I'll fit in eventually!

Love
Anne