X Marks The Spot

X marks the resing place of my old home. The X Building with its rampaging crazy residents (who all lived close to my flat) is no longer my home. It is goodbye to the neighbour on the right who was grumpy and the new one who smoked pot in the hallway. The neighbour on left who thought he was a Sex Pistol. The neighbours below who tried to kill each other. The neighbours above who (very badly) sang Coldplay "Fix You" to the car park on Pall Mall at two in the morning. The spaniards accross the hall who bore too much chest hair. I dont live in their building any more. I have moved. Still in the city. But not in the crazy building. I will miss it.

The Editor came over to help me move and we treated ourselves to a meal at Alma De Cuba which was nice. Then we sat in and watched the apprenctice. The Editor likes Michelle. I dont see it. Her hair is too lifeless.

Anyway... I have a new flat! And it has a mezzanine floor.