mo’ument

There is a step as you enter the side entrance of Monument tube station. If you’re ever in the City and you think, ‘I’ll take the tube at Monument,’ please remember the first sentence. I wish someone had said ‘there is a step as you enter the side entrance of Monument tube station,’ to me before I entered this morning.

It should be apparent I was taking public transport to my place of fucking work this morning. I’m meeting my bro for a few pints later and it seemed like a good idea to not take the Black Bitch as riding about pissed is both illegal and unsafe which is irksome as drunk driving is bloody wonderful.

I’m extraordinarily happy in my new gaff. I’ve still to attend the boxes of CD’s/books et al but apart from that I’m pretty much done; my brain and soul settling slowly into my new environment. I enter my flat just down the alleyway via the locked iron gate (now clad in a reed screen that lends an air of intimacy to what lies beyond) and arrive in the garden (yellow shallow gravel as opposed to grass and a little shed that smells deliciously of creosote) and past the three pots of flowers wot I dun. Short flight of stairs past the kitchen window down to a fucking enormous yucca and next to a second iron gate that screens my front door, open both and you’re in the living room with the kitchen to the left and bedroom in front. I shit in the garden but if I feel like it there is a toilet and shower off the living space.

I have to say, it doesn’t get a huge amount of light but this mere tish and fipsy is more than compensated by the garden space. Indeed, it’s rather jolly to sit in the lounge with the door open to the outside world as Swineshead and his pal discovered when they visited early Tuesday evening for a pot of tea and spot of skunk.

Join me now as I list all the advantages to my new dwelling. One is a fib.

*The garden
*No Cunt
*Wonderful big kitchen with a fan oven that’s more effective than The Taliban
*A killer shower that would flatten Amy Winehouse’s Beehive in a nano second
*A heating system that supplies instant, endless hot water and warms flat in minutes
*Not having to put up with a fucking retard below me
*Peace and quiet, but with the personal option to not be either with impunity
*Wooden floors
*Clean white walls
*The perfume of my ex-neighbours fingers, ears, and genitals rotting in my plant pots

Last night IC popped downstairs for a spot of Apperativo and dinner as we nattered away over some banging choons on my beautifully set-up stereo, which I’d not used in an age. Bloody happy I am. Just the completion, motorcycle to deal with, the packing, shelving and TV to arrange and I’ll be as poised as the arrow tattoo on my arm.

Oh, I tripped over the fucking step at Monument this morning and fell arse over tit into the concourse.