Day 278 (24 February 2012) - Must be the reason...

...why I'm King of my Castle'.  What a tune eh?  Another of those songs that nobody has the foggiest what the next line is, but they certainly don't make 'em like that any more.

Yes, I'm still alive and still posting, although if there was anyone who still remotely gave a damn, you could be forgiven for popping elsewhere for your regular blog-fix.  However, I have very good reasons for having been away so long.

'Why's that?', you say
'Because I haven't had access to the internet for three weeks' , I reply
'Why's that?, you repeat
'Because my new home doesn't have a phone line'
'Aah' you go (humour me and do this, will you?)
...'but wait a minute' you exclaim, as you slam your midori and coke on the working top.  'A new home?'
'Well, yes' I say, slightly smugly whilst stroking the lapels of my smoking jacket and curling the end of my magnificent moustache, for I am very, nay, exceedingly proud to present Challenge 29 'Buy a flat in Putney' (Susie).

...this is the bit where the dancing girls and elephants come on...

Before I go on (and as you know,  I do go on), I would like you all to take a second to appreciate the size of this particular task.  This wasn't a mere night out or a the development of some new skill.  No, this was the Mount Everest of my challenging year, my own little discovery of penicillin, my composition of a symphony, my reproduction of the Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies.  OK, I'm prone to exaggeration, but c'mon this was a biggie and I've gone and bleedin' well done it

...kinda.  Cos if you're splitting hairs or generally prone to pedantry, my new abode is technically Wandsworth.  I tried altering the 'SW18' on the road sign to a 'SW15' but who knew that doing so was an arrestable offence?   In my defence, cross the road and you are in Putney.  In addition to which my road does a fair impression, being filled with a suitable number of 4x4s, children called 'Cassandra' and 'Jacques' and at least one fine example of topiary.  My nearest train station is Putney, my voting constituency is Putney and my new favourite local restaurant is called 'Putney Pies' (and yes, I did eat them all), so between us can we just call it Putney?   

With that out of the way, I guess you want to know what it's like?  Well, you're more than welcome to pay a visit and see for yourself.  In essence it's a three storey Victorian semi (wa-hey) that's been converted into three flats.  I'm on the first floor.  It's a small one-bedroom flat with a fairly large kitchen-diner, beautiful dark mock-wooden floors and a pimped-up white kitchen - how do my fingers get so dirty?  I've got a cute east-facing bedroom with a little roof terrace which has got sunbathing and gin written all over it, and an additional small room which the estate agent described as 'a study' but which I've Christened 'a shit room' - for tis where I'm going to store all my shit.  It's already bursting at the seams and I've barely moved in.

Two weeks in and I'm loving it.  Living on my own for the first time is taking some getting used to - I have taken to talking to myself in scenes reminiscent of Shirley Valentine, but it feels amazing to have my own place with my own things. Sainsbury's homeware department has become my idea of a great night out and I'm finding myself getting super-excited over the smallest things 'Yes, it is a brand new cling film holder, thank you for asking'.    Granted some furniture would be nice at some stage, but these things take time (eight weeks if it's a sofa and you happen to order from John Lewis).  In the meantime I've discovered the joys and sheer versatility of a giant beanbag. 

I've found myself performing hitherto unperformed tasks, like putting my shoes away when I come in, considering the merits of potplants and actually looking at cushions.  In short I've become a slightly hairier and infinitely less polished version of Anthea Turner. 

Of course, this is me, so give it five years and you'll probably see me on a Channel 5 documentary about hoarding 'Craig has taken to living in one room due to the volume of rubbish he's collected', but for the meantime in my eyes I'm the lovechild of Phil Spencer, Kirsty Allsop and Hyacinth Bouquet - and I'm loving it. 

Come visit!