Adsense and Sensibility

A couple of weeks ago, I was interviewed about an aspect of my job: making truckloads of cash using Google Adsense. The article was published today and you can read it here.

Back back back!

No, I didn't perish on the move from Herne Hill - we just had to wait two weeks for BT to fix the phone line. According to Sara, the engineer who turned up today reminded her of a cross between Leatherface from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre and that bloke from the Hills Have Eyes, ie well scary. But he got the job done, even if he did murder the neighbours with a rusty screwdriver on the way up the stairs.

We're on our way out to celebrate our return to the 21st Century. I will blog later this week to tell you all the stuff we've been up to in the last fortnight, like carrying heavy boxes, trying to eradicate the smell from our kitchen and going to see McFly. My ears are still ringing. But more of that later...

Bye Bye Herne Hill

So the flat is packed up into boxes and the fridge has been scrubbed. We were half-tempted to leave the place looking like the black hole of Calcutta, but I'm not sure what the black hole of Calcutta looks like. Except it's probably black. And hole-like.

We both feel a little sad to be leaving this flat because it has a lovely atmosphere... but we're twice as excited about moving into our new place. And staying there for at least a year!

This year, since being together (in February) we have lived in the following places:

1. Feb. Itchy Towers.

A hotel-cum-apartment-block in central London. The kind of place they put the long-term homeless. We lived there for 10 days, and named it Itchy Towers because, well, it made us itch. There was a mouse in the bathroom. Quite cute, but nevertheless...a mouse in the bathroom! Perhaps it was said mouse's fleas that caused the itchiness. In an attempt to stem the scratching, I went out and bought a new quilt. I got it at Argos on Tottenham Court road then went to meet my friend Helen for a drink in Soho. It must be one of the lowlights of my life, walking in to a pub carrying my quilt. It was the nearest to homeless I've ever felt. We drank cheap boxed wine every night. But we were happy because we were together.

2. Feb-March. Belsize Park.

After leaving Itchy Towers, we moved back to Buffy's old flat. The night we moved in, on a rainy February evening, we discovered that the previous occupant (her ex) had taken everything. Everything! Including the lightbulbs. The bedding, most of the furniture, half the patio heater... Most people think Belsize Park is posh, but there is an un-posh bit. This flat was in the un-posh bit. We had to find someone to rent it, so spent the next few weeks showing people round, hoping the Beast who lived upstairs wouldn't be singing along to her James Blunt records. We eventually offloaded it to a fuckwitted couple called Jim and Jose. Jim was a girl, in case you're wondering. We sold them the remains of our furniture for £20 and they repaid us by complaining to the landlord that we'd left it in a dirty state (we hadn't) and we had to pay for a proefessional cleaner. They're on my shit-list now.

3. March-April. Docklands.

We stayed in a friend's house while they went backpacking. It was a nice place but living in Docklands is like living on the moon. But with less life. The only entertainment was at the local Asda. It was a very good Asda. And the less said about the DLR the better.

4. April-September. Herne Hill.

You know about Herne Hill already.

And tomorrow we continue our great voyage around London by moving to Tulse Hill. You will, of course, be able to read all about it, right here and on Sara Sizzle (the best blog in the world).

Landlord of the Flies

I'm fuming!

(If this was Sara's blog there'd be a pic of me fuming here.)

Our landlord, who forced us to leave this flat 8 months early, because he's a bastard, promised us compensation. This wouldn't have made us rich by any means but it would have helped chip away at the edifice of our debts. So, today, after endless calls and emails he finally turned up - on his scooter - with our deposit in a brown paper envelope. Loads of £50 notes. Nice. "There's *insert amount of depost here*," he said.

'What about the compensation."

"Oh, I forgot my cheque book."

Aaargh!

He has, though, agreed to sell us his rubbishy second-hand telly, bought in a special landlord's shop, for £50. £50! It might actually be a collector's piece, though, because it's made by Nokia. Who knew that Nokia made TVs?

Anyway, like I said, I'm fuming and am thinking of selling our keys to Dave and inviting him and his wife to move in and squat.

I just might do it.

The Hills Are Alive

A very very quick post as I know my readers are crying out to hear whether we got the flat.

Yep, we sure did. Hurrah! We move on Saturday...all the way from Herne Hill to Tulse Hill. It's an up-and-coming area, you know. They're building, wait for it, an All Bar One. But we will be sad to leave HH and our new mate, Dave, behind. I'm still waiting for him to share his wealth with me.

Now, we just need to get our money back from our current landlord. Stay tuned for the next exciting instalment.

BTW, I changed my template because on PCs all the stuff that looks so lovely on the side on my Mac appearsat the bottom. Rubbish!

More tomorrow. I almost promise. (I'm going to go and annoy Buffy who's having a peaceful bath now.)