The London Report, Weeks Two & Three:

The House HuntWork is progressing as one would expect work always to progress: busier & busier and further & further behind. The group at work did organize an outing to the magnificent Royal Albert Hall for one of the summer concerts - one of the 'Proms'. We did not 'promenade' (trans.: SRO tickets) but sat, thankfully, in the Choir where we could watch the funny expressions on the face of the conductor.

The first challenge in finding a place in London to live is deciding where to live. The city is a blank slate to me -- a very very big blank slate. My desiderata are more about access to transit and local character than location. The estate agents, however, are strongly aligned by location.

To pick a location so I can find an agent that handles that area, I spend a Saturday walking around towns at the east end of the Central line (an easy commute to the office), an area that I will simply designate 'Allsprawl' based on my on-the-ground research. Research conducted by walking considerable distances in what the English are calling a heat wave (my Australian colleague is amused) but which seems more like plain miserably humid weather. Having assessed the quality of the local character, on Sunday my researches took me to Chesham -- northwest of the city where I knew local character was plentiful (I was, after all, meeting up with Jennifer & Chris, and they certainly count as local characters). Conclusion from this expedition: I'm not really up for a best-case commute of 80-90 minutes each way.

For the day in question, Chesham was just a stopping point on the way to Warwick to ambush Berkeley Morris. The ambush was a success in that I did locate the team. The ambush was not a success in that no-one was particularly surprised to see me. Still, I did enjoy watching the dancing of the various teams there for the Warwick Folk Festival -- highlights were Shropshire Bedlams and Outside Capering Crew.

Back to house-hunting (be vewy, vewy quiet...). The second challenge is finding a place that is still available by the time you actually speak to the agent. The internet does not move quickly enough to keep up with the London housing market. This time trying the southeast corner of the city, a sequence of phone calls turns up a place still available. I make an appointment to see it the next Saturday (only two days away). On the appointed day I arrive early; no 'For Let' sign in the window. Hmmm. The agent arrives; his keys don't open the front door (though they do fit). Hmmm. The address on the paperwork matches the street address -- at least, we think we are the right street. The door is opened a crack by a nervous young woman. We explain. She denies that the house is for let. We apologize. Hmmm. The agent calls the office; the office is surprised. They'll get back to us. Hmmm. The agent admits this is his first day on the job. Hmmm. The office calls back; we should have gone to number 94, not number 90. Well, how were we to know? We walk down two doors; an upstairs window is open and we hear voices & a vacuum cleaner. The agent & I look at each other.

The current tenants are moving out that day. The place is small -- four small rooms plus good sized (& modern!) kitchen & bathroom. Plus patio / jungle exhibit. I'm tired of the house-hunting game -- I fill out an application and place a deposit. They'll check my references and get back to me.

Next week in 'The London Report, Week Four': The Waiting Game