On the 18:01 back to Wimbledon for the final time listening to the Artic Monkeys, like much of Britain it seems. So far, it sounds good - first listen.
I've been battling with the dreaded UK credit system, where absolutely everything has to be backed up with "previous residence" and "credit history" - not easy when you've only been in the country 4 months. It's a total catch 22. If you've just arrived, how the hell can you have a credit history and a previous residence ?
Then again, not much makes sense over here, just like back in South Africa. I often wonder how anything ever gets done, until I realise it doesn't. Just go with the flow and keep your sense of humour. it's the first line of offense.
I finally convinced the credit check company that South Africa works a little differently to the UK and that I don't actually have any proof of residence on me. What irks me is that the banking institutions shift their fraud problems onto the consumer, under the guise of "protecting us"
I ended up with 60p in my wallet on Tuesday evening and a few thousand quid in the bank the next day, which was rather alarming. Talk about a close call.
Tommorrow I will be a resident of Odiham, Hook, Hampshire. I will probably go out of my mind after a few weeks of living in a tiny village, having spent the last four months in London. I've also realised that in such a small place, I will become known even if I don't realise it. I'm fairly certain that there is already word out that there's someone new moving into the vacant apartment on the High Street.
I'm looking forward to living there anyway. The idea of once again having my own space is wonderful.
I may become an eccentric, or rather, finally go over the edge after years of teetering on the brink. Perhaps I'll take on the roll of the village drunk/idiot. Every village needs one, perhaps they'll pay me if I dress the part. Then again, they may already have one. There's a bloke in the village who looks a lot like Keith Richards. He wears a fake leopard skin skull cap.
This is Britain, land of the eccentric anyone. I must admit, I do like that, although unfortunately it is tempered by Yob culture. Amidst the eccentric nuttery, there's the bland dimwit dickhead sheep, but that's another story.
I've applied for a phone and will soon apply for broadband. I was under the impression that this would be easy in a "1st world country", however, I ran into the same old bollocks as South Africa.
The first time I called to apply, I was told that the line in the apartment had been disconnected and an engineer would only be available in a month. Having learnt from experience in South Africa, I said "don't worry then", phoned again and got a different date for the engineer, 3 weeks from now.
Third time lucky then - I call again and this time, my line should be installed in 3 days.
Go figure, it's like a damn lottery.
Then again, It's entirely possible that I'll be shunted from phone pillar to phone post anyway and end up getting the line the day before I move out.
I was never under the impression that the UK would be wonderfully easy to get things done, but I didn't expect the problems I've encountered so far. There's red tape on the red tape.
A bit of money in the bank, however, seems to work wonders. Previous residence and credit history takes a backseat to the filthy lucre.
"No problem sir, I'm sure we can process your application"
"Yes, but I'm actually an evil terrorist with a long white scraggly santa beard and a copy of the Anarchist Cookbook in my 'bomb laden' backpack"
"Excuse me sir ?"
"I said 'can we fast track ?'"
"Certainly sir"
