Thirty Thousand Streets

Monday, March 06, 2006


As Gridrunner carves up virgin snow like the new media playboy that he is, and DJ Phaze repopulates forest in Honduras, the Eye has somewhat more tedious things to get to grips with, such as repopulating his own flat; d-don't worry though, it's not because I've carved up virgins here.. or anything.

The beginning of the day was thus spent emailing people and placing ads online about the room, which is actually a bargain, and a very decent size. Being at the front of the house however, it also acts as something of a sounding board for rudebuoy's bass-bins as they thunder up Camberwell Church Street, or the quaking of buses at the stop outside, so I think I'm going to stick in my little broom cupboard in the attic.

It's elicited some response, but so far four of the five people who've expressed an interest have decided against it, two of them before even stepping inside. One let me know by text in the following shorthand: "Hey tom sorry2mess u around bvt i will have2postpone our meeting until i have a dEf moving dte.Sorry2have messed ubowt" *FINE* I don't think I'd want to live with such a sloppy texter anyway.
The girl we did meet tonight was really nice though.. and despite it being early days yet looking for people is starting to do my head in, so if she's interested, she can have it as far as I'm concerned.

Today was another example of just how brass-necked recruitment people can be. Someone from one of the agencies I signed up with late 2004 rang me up, a full seven or eight months after I last spoke to him, offering me some freelance out in - wait for it - Hertfordshire. It's a hike, but I might as well take it with nothing else on. Still, mission.

Anyway, I'm meeting up with a friend from Manchester who's down in London for training tomorrow, so that should be a larf if nothing else.

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