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     And so the sun rises upon my first full day as a denizen of Flat 5, and it's a bit on the warm side. The British weather has heard the meteorologists muttering about a long, cold winter and so decided to bake the dreaming spires. If the weathermen can keep this up, then the old pensioners won't have to fly south for the winter, and we can all boast a winter melanoma. In order to set the whole Flat Five enterprise well on the road to success, I embarked on an journey to the uncharted territory of a department store, accompanied by my fellow denizens. I have always been wary of department stores, walking past racks of nylon skirts and tweed jackets that could be hiding a multitude of 'assistants'. I wait for a volley of 'Can I help you sir?'s. The suspense is killing me. In my anxiety I nearly inform a young person in a pushchair that 'I'm just browsing, thank you'. The expedition went well despite the fact that the main item I wanted was out of stock (I shall have to soldier bravely on without a duvet cover), but the true test of our mettle was still to come. We had, in our blissful ignorance, forgotten the Long Walk Home to the flats. Laden with food and household items, we crawled home under the burning midday sun. As the sweat dripped onto the toasted flag stones, 'Long Way Home' played on my Walkman. Most fitting. For dinner, determined to demonstrate my culinary prowess, I prepared a curry for my flatmates. I claim it as a success since they didn't regurgitate the meal, although I may have added a little bit too much water. After drinking the curry, we attempted to clean the kitchen. Whilst I removed the antique patina of dirt from the benches, Chris performed a liposuction operation on the cooker hob. Mark moved things around and tried to look busy. And so to bed. |
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