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Jun. 16th, 2011 01:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolMy fiance, my father and my godfather are all moving furniture into my flat today, while I am at work. Other than the statement that yes, I am spoilt absolutely rotten*, I am mildly concerned I'm going to get home and whilst the furniture will be there, the house will be strewn with lager cans. I won't even know how the lager cans got there, currently we only have wine and Pimms in the flat.**
To anyone who has met either my slender and Scottish fiance, heavily bearded Northern father or indeed my highly intellectual bespectacled London-living godfather then they will know what a bizarre mental image am currently enjoying. Hell, even if you haven't met them I encourage you to imagine it because frankly it's the most cheerful though I've had in ages. Particularly the idea of them hefting furniture up our narrow stairs.
In other news we still have no internet at the flat as it turns out we are living in a flat that has been blacklisted by BT. Luckily they have worked out we are not the probably money-laundering definite drug-dealing ex-owners. Ironically it really is a very nice flat. Still, we should be up and running by the end of the month, when we should also have a bed. It's all beginning to make sense now, I think.
(a disclaimer: the furniture is from my godfather's parent's house, as they passed away about a year ago and he's still house-clearing and Richie and I have no compunction when it comes to nicking furniture, it's perfectly robust and saves us from buying new stuff/keeping all my books in boxes unto eternity HUZZAH. Also when Richie was at work on Saturday I moved everything else into the flat and I did buy Dad a very large crate of Stella for his trouble)
**(a second disclaimer: oh, look, we went to St Andrews and some stuff just rubs off on you and Asda had a cracking drinks offer on for the wine)
To anyone who has met either my slender and Scottish fiance, heavily bearded Northern father or indeed my highly intellectual bespectacled London-living godfather then they will know what a bizarre mental image am currently enjoying. Hell, even if you haven't met them I encourage you to imagine it because frankly it's the most cheerful though I've had in ages. Particularly the idea of them hefting furniture up our narrow stairs.
In other news we still have no internet at the flat as it turns out we are living in a flat that has been blacklisted by BT. Luckily they have worked out we are not the probably money-laundering definite drug-dealing ex-owners. Ironically it really is a very nice flat. Still, we should be up and running by the end of the month, when we should also have a bed. It's all beginning to make sense now, I think.
(a disclaimer: the furniture is from my godfather's parent's house, as they passed away about a year ago and he's still house-clearing and Richie and I have no compunction when it comes to nicking furniture, it's perfectly robust and saves us from buying new stuff/keeping all my books in boxes unto eternity HUZZAH. Also when Richie was at work on Saturday I moved everything else into the flat and I did buy Dad a very large crate of Stella for his trouble)
**(a second disclaimer: oh, look, we went to St Andrews and some stuff just rubs off on you and Asda had a cracking drinks offer on for the wine)
