A nice little early birthday present was waiting for me when I got home on Friday night in the form of a court summons for our errant landlady. You may remember our potential eviction woes back in July following her apparent failure to bother to pay the mortgage. We thought it had all been resolved, but it appears not, and proceedings initiated by her bank to recover possession of the property will be heard at a central London court next month. Oh joy of joys. Once again I’m reminded that as tenants we have no rights whatsoever if she opts not to pay her mortgage and no right to be provided with any more information about the case. Well, it’s only our home after all. Luckily it turns out that the wheels of legal process turn mightily slowly, and we should have a good while (imminent holiday in Australia notwithstanding) to make alternative arrangements. I wonder what level of Spencer Mike’s Instant Bankruptcy Programme (TM) she’s reached now.
Another present arrived in the middle of the night, some four hours or so into the day of my 28th birthday, as the car alarm on the BMW belonging to one of our fellow residents went off for the second night in three (it’s now become 4 in 6). After a few minutes of this we became aware of an unusual hissing sound, and peered out into the car park to see if the foxes we’ve previously noticed engaging in some kind of late night vulpine Fight Club back there were at it again (and the impetus for the motion related alarm to disturb most of the block). No, actually, it was just a fellow resident who had snapped, in a Michael Douglas Falling Down sort of way, and who was now spraying shaving cream all over said BMW. [In the morning we subsequently heard the chap–an Aussie, natch–chatting to the bloke who owned the car and claiming to have “left a note on it”. Well, you could say that, I suppose…]
These distractions out of the way, and with our friends George and Rohan about to leave London for good in the back of their imminently arriving taxi, we headed over to the local to join them for their final pint in the UK and start my birthday celebrations. Things go a bit hazy at some point in the afternoon, but thanks to everyone who came, on the off chance that you’re reading. And thanks to everyone who bought me drinks (but not the shots; they were foul).
If I were dictator I’d pass a law that anyone is legally entiled to smash up a car when its alarm goes off for longer than two minutes with no obvious criminal provocation. Same with office alarms – you would be allowed to go in to the offending premises, armed with cricket bat/golf clubs/other sporting accessory and lay waste to the place. You wouudn’t be able to steal anything though. That’d defeat the object of the alarm.
“Disgruntled 27 year old technical author…”
Get it changed!
And Happy Birthday!
> Disgruntled 27 year old technical author…
Damn. Changed…