Tag Archives: flat

Death of the party

Goodbye, dear party flat: you served us well. Last night marked the end of a rather brief era, with friends moving on from Bournemouth and – clearly more importantly – moving out of the flat we could regularly rely on to host parties.

The unbridled hedonism of these soirees is the sort of thing that future generations simply would not believe, putting the last days of Rome to shame, quite clearly. Brie, pate, other foods, middling quality alcohol, high-level consumption of said alcohol, all of my musical choices being skipped even though I was always nice enough to not skip all the absolute shit other people put on (what the fuck is wrong with Cannibal Corpse anyway? Philistines), kicking balls at things.

Heady days, no doubt. Craziness. Shocked we’re still alive – it was just so utterly wanton.

But now it is gone, and now we have nowhere regular to attend when we’re all broke and/or bored. Nowhere we can regularly go to consume cheaper-than-pub alcohol and engage in the sort of witty banter that would put Oscar Wilde to shame (“I LIKE THAT BIT ON NAKED GUN WHERE HE SAYS ‘NICE BEAVER’”, for example). It is a loss, of that there is little doubt.

This does of course mean we need somewhere else that is willing and able to host good, solid parties on a regular basis. Auditions will be held over the next few months, with repeat interviews to be carried out on those locations deemed worthy of further attention.

A replacement will be found. A replacement must be found. After all, where else am I to drop trou and dance? The street? THAT WOULD BE MADNESS.

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One year down, one year’s worth of nothing done

I have now lived in this downstairs demi-flat for just about a year – 11 or so months. In that time I have got a new TV, an exercise bike, a dressing gown and lots of other things that would make me ashamed if I was put on the spot for being a materialistic twerp. I have also lost some things, like a USB cable, a roll of sticky tape and a girlfriend. It has been a full year, no doubt.

So as it’s been that long, why have I still not bothered to actually do anything with my stuff? My stereo/sound system is still sat higgledy piggledy on the mantelpiece, my printer still isn’t in any kind of useable shape, I still haven’t bothered getting my CDs out to computerise them, my DVDs aren’t alphabetised (yeah, not even joking about that one) and I’ve still not taken my massive tin of change to the bank. There’s probably some other first world problems I haven’t sorted out too, but I think I’m too overcome with grief to remember them right now.

Am I the only one this shit? Can someone else please make me feel a bit better with tales of how they bought a bookcase and didn’t put it together for 14 years, then died? That would make me feel like less of a tool.

I really need to set my stereo up. Even if I don’t use it – just so it’s there.

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