Monday, 9 August 2010

squirrel on the move

Housemate: Just went to check the mail and see you have a hand addressed envelope dated 3:15 Aug. 9 (today) -- I assume it's from the "owners" -- let me know if you want me to open it or just leave it there or put in your house (which I've been doing with your other mail).

Me: Erk. Can you open it because I am having a slight panic attack :)

Housemate: I'm sorry it's not good news but it's what I suspected it was. It's a notice to terminate for landlord's own use that's effective Oct. 31, 2010.

Me: [redacted because of this "request" ]

Not completely unexpected of course.

I was having a drink on Carnaby Street with my cousin, his wife and my sister when I got this news.

The eviction notice arrived on the day I was scheduled to return from London but I have extended my stay for a couple of weeks. At least I will not be reading the notice as soon as I enter my long-loved home all weary from travel and jet lagged. That would have been a bit brutal. This way I have time to shake it off before I get back. And we got started on that right away.

My cousin and his wife had to head for home as the last train from London leaves before midnight. My sis took me on a mystery tour through the nighttime streets. We suddenly ducked in the side door of a building and dashed into the most splendiferous toilet I have ever seen. It was like a secret garden. Oddly.

I have no picture. This is from flickr. Click to see original.

I still didn't know where we were. We came out of the toilets and we were at Claridge's having a Breakfast at Tiffany's moment.

We went to the Fumoir. I had a Sazerac. I have never had one before but have wanted to try this delicious nectar ever since I saw State of the Union (Frank Capra's movie). The waiter was as perfect as the jewelry salesperson in Breakfast at Tiffany's and comfort and optimism were restored.

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