bobble

It’s grey here today so I’m indoors catching up on chores. It’s been absolutely stonkingly sunny here the past few days. Yesterday I was on the beach all afternoon reading Austen and listening to the conversations of the old biddies next to me. Every time they came out of the water they would exclaim “It’s like bathwater!” Hopefully this is a good thing. I am also going through sunscreen like nobodies business.

Only two more sleeps until we move. I must admit I am getting excited now. I hope we get the keys before the removal men turn up. I really want to take some pictures of the flat all empty and waiting.

As our vendors were taking all the kitchen appliances that were not nailed down we needed to buy a fridge asap. It’s coming on Tuesday, so only a few days with UHT milk.

I’ll bore you even more with a picture of it:

In other news I’ve had my hair cut (a blunt trim and an assymetric fringe) at a salon in Kemp Town. Apparently Cate Blanchett goes there too. She wasn’t in yesterday but they do have a resident dog called Sparkle. Nice.

Off to watch Wimbleydon on the telly.

M and I went over to look at the street we are moving into last night. I now think of it as Lovely Street™ and last night with the trees in full leaf and the sun shining it lived up to it’s name.

On Lovely Street™ en route to the pub we spotted a bruiser of a cat meowing. We stopped and stroked the handsome chap. A guy strolling along Lovely Street™ stopped to talk and told us all about the twenty or so cats that live on Lovely Street™; this one was a bit of a bully. We asked if he lived on Lovely Street™ and he confirmed that he did. We replied that we were moving in next week. Walking away he shouted back “Welcome to the neighbourhood!” I have a very good feeling about this place…

Lovely Street™

Finally got a table at The Foragers last night. It was well worth the wait. I had thickly sliced duck breast in a raspberry wine jus with sweet potato mash and braised spinach and red cabbage. Mmmmm hmmmmm. Definitely recommended. As it’s only two or three streets from us it may well become our regular.

This morning I stuck my head in a florist I’ve been looking at for the last couple of weeks. It’s an absolutely beautiful shop called Planted on St James’s Street in Kemp Town run buy two lovely gay guys. I enquired about coastal hardy plants for our (as yet not created) window-boxes. They were very knowledgeable and said they’d keep some Cape Daisies by for me when they next came in and even pot up my containers. What great chaps!

M and I have also been trying out different coffee bars on the way to work each morning. I can’t really function until my first coffee of the day so this is important business. So far I rate:

* Coffee @ 33 on Trafalgar Street (near Brighton Station). Little independent shop serving real strong Italian coffee made by real Italian boys. Lovely sandwiches too.
* Spinelli Coffee on College Road in Kemp Town. Again real Italian coffee in a relaxing coffee bar with free wifi.
* Brighton Coffee Co. on Kensington Gardens in the middle of North Laine. Busy bar right in the centre of things. Good coffee, large cups and friendly people. I really like the badly spelled words on their menu (’freshy’ and ‘pumpkim’). Bless them.

Today I bought a card for M’s mum’s birthday. It is 100% compostable and comes in a biodegradable bag (how Brighton!) I was tempted by the other one in the guys shop which read “I am sorry for writing twat on your garage door” but I thought it might be taken the wrong way.

We’ve exchanged on our purchase, we’ve bloody goddamn well exchanged.

Completion date 4th July.

I can now eye:

Bedlinen from Cologne and Cotton
Regency decanters for port
Massive gilt mirrors
Antique poison and apothecary bottles
Cake stands of all descriptions
Bone china tea cups and saucers for afternoon tea
A skinny turned leg Regency desk
Porcelain knob coat hooks
Cut glass door handles

The agony and ecstasy of house purchase.

*dances again*

I bought another cake stand today. I fear I have a cake stand fetish*. It’s an old school glass bell jar (with knob) teamed with a low white porcelain platter. I plan to admire it fulsomely when we finally move into our flat. In fact I may commission an open shelf in the kitchen just for cake stands.

Kate rather marvelously emailed me last night to check I was watching ‘The Supersizers…. go Regency.’ I was in fact watching and no doubt will watch it again shortly on iPlayer. The wonders of modern technology. Any man who can write in his food column about ” weeny bike thieves and kitten-stabbers” has won my heart. Oh Giles!

Watching Wimbledon just now and one of the commentators said “He has mad staring eyes, eyes like a scientist. A set of eyes on him all right.” WTF.

In flat news no, we haven’t exchanged yet. The contract finally arrived yesterday and we returned it to our solicitors by Next Day Delivery service today. Hopefully we can exchange tomorrow or Friday. I know I have said that before.

Looking through the weighty tome our solicitor sent it appears that their solicitor is a very rude and slow person. When I read his terse correspondence to our solicitor (and her repeated reasonable requests for information) I thought she was a saint for staying civil, bless her.

I did entertain a wild idea of giving up on this flat yesterday and had a look at other Brighton flats on t’internet but I found nothing I had the love for and that I’d feel happy ditching this flat… so I guess we are committed, or may be should be?

The only potential fly in the ointment is a clause in the lease saying we have to have carpet (and apply for permission to have pets and that we have to have suitable window coverings at all times). Now, I LOATHE carpet and I have asthma. Soft furnishings, especially carpet, make it worse. Our solicitor said we could apply to the other joint freeholders for permission to have wooden floors (and obviously state we would soundproof it to a level over and above the existing carpet so as not to annoy others). Fingers crossed then.

I’m hoping our new neighbours will be reasonable about the flooring. We haven’t met them yet. It was snowing and blowing a gale when we viewed the flat back in March so the neighbours were either inside by the fire or in the pub knocking back a whisky or three (I know I would.) The secretary of the freehold company (which we will have a share in) lives immediately below us and in his correspondence to the solictor sounded reasonable and sane. Nice penmanship too. The person above us in the small second floor flat is a guy who used to live there with his mother and took over the flat when she passed away. I’m getting a mental image of Ronnie Corbett crossed with Alan Carr.

Annoying woman upstairs in our rental flat (yes, they have NO soundproofing under their wooden floors) is now - by the sounds of it - doing step aerobics while holding a baby elephant and singing a medoly of songs from Oliver.

Oh God.

* I am eyeing up another one in a secondhand shop - what if it sells when I’m not there! - a 1950s two tier one with red roses and black leaves.

M and I went out last night to celebrate having such a big - albeit temporarily - bank balance. Some of the profits of our hard earned labour went on a lovely pub meal and a bottle of prosecco. Sitting in the bar of The Thomas Kemp quaffing a glass full of fizz looking down the street to the sea made all those months of slog seem - almost - worth it.

I had roast loin of pork in a very creamy tarragon sauce with baby new potatoes and salad. M had aubergine parmigiana with salad and fresh french bread. The menu was excellent and I shall certainly be going back there. Having a cream tarragon sauce reminded me of being at college in Cambridge. The French restaurant I worked below (sadly long gone as they skipped town when the tax man caught up with them) did a very similar dish of slow roasted chicken in cream and tarragon. The secret the chef told me was to use veal stock to get a really tasty sauce. Hmmm good memories.

(I also played table ‘hide and seek’ with a lovely blond moppet next to us (called Charlie) throughout our meal. I almost wanted to take him home.)

On Saturday last we finally had a meal at Ethels Kitchen (blogs passim). We had a late veggie breakfast that was one of the best I’ve ever had. Why does tea out of a real bone china cup and saucer just taste better?

I’ve also discovered courtesy of M’s work colleagues an excellent pub near Brighton station - who knew such a thing existed? Two streets away in North Gardens is The Caxton Arms. I haven’t eaten here yet but I’ve been told the food is excellent. Anywhere with Zoffany flock wallpaper that feels like a very nice sitting room is all right by me.

I have been doing more than eating and drinking since I moved to Brighton, honest guv. No, really.