Moving House Yet Again

YESTERDAY MORNING I got an unexpected postal missive marked URGENT in enormous red writing. "Ring us [the property agents] immediately."
So I did.
And got through to a cheery young girl who said "oh we're moving you to another address".
"But I can't do this till after the weekend, and where is it?" I replied.
"Oh if you can be out by the beginning of next week that would be lovely."
(Lovely my ****.) "No, I mean I have to ring my family and I don't know what they're doing. So I might not be able to do anything till after this weekend," which is May Day public holiday weekend in this country, just for added inconvenience.
And they would not tell me where it was until I came in. "I'll come in this afternoon," I assured them.
Then I took three hits of heroin in a row and knocked myself out. I was in a very bad mood and utterly convinced they were moving me from my laminated floored paradise into a dirgy garret hellhole, like certain past accommodation in passed years in...
Having sulked all night I reluctantly turned up at the landlord's this morning expecting the worse. Signed papers and demanded this time a copy so I can at least inform the Council properly (no-one told me last time I was meant to piff-paff-puff around with housing benefit forms/etc. I only found out about the last set of computational problems at the council when I was informed 1: I did not exist on the computer and 2: I was being sued by the council tax into the bargain. "But how did you know I was living there if I don't exist on the computer?" I asked, wide-eyed and stupidly. "Oh that's because your landlord told us you were living there," the Desk Operative replied. Lovely ...

To cut a long story short all my sulking was wasted energy. Far from being a rat-ridden fleapit, the new place is just as nice as where I am now. In fact this time I actually get a separate bedroom with actual door and double bed! Plus a living room with two blue armchairs! Plus fully working cooker (I checked) with oven that I failed to check (knowing me I'd forget to turn it off ~ this in highest of Costa del Cockney summertime weather. London doesn't half get sweltering on occasion and it's like that now. All blue skies and Outstanding Council Tax bills...

Mumzy says she will move me in on Sunday. Thanks Mum!

Mother Hubbard is in hospital with pancreas-itis. She says they promised her a medical procedure "in near-unconsciousness". Instead they passed a python-size slither-implement down her throat with bitey ends. Gave her NO analgesia but her ordinary dose of methadone (all methadone does is keep you sane, there's no drowsiness, certainly no high). As the snake's mouth started biting through stomach to pancreas she nearly hit the ceiling, only to be "assaulted" (held down).
"I've had a lot of experiences in my life and I'll never, ever forget this one," she seethed.
I tried not to rub it in but I was angry just listening. Anaesthetists specialize in the effects of various knock-out drops on individuals. Absolutely basic to their study is that opiates build tolerance in habituated "patients". In certain individuals with 20 year ++ habits, that tolerance can be sky high ...

Well I won't go on. I have to go to Iceland to obtain strawberry flavour ice cream cones, 6 for £1, if they've not sold out ...

My new house smells of my own piri piri hotpot cooking, by the way...

I'm not sure I'll be able to reply to messages till after the long weekend, but will try my best...

Have a charming weekend, y'all ...