Weekends

I really love weekends in London. I took a hiatus the last few weeks from doing anything on the weekend, and that was a needed break, but I forgot what I was missing! There's so many different things to do - yesterday I wandered down to Portobello Market and met a friend, we had a drink at a little pub, met another one of her friends, walked on to Whole Foods Market (have I mentioned how much I love that place?? It turns the supermarket into an experience!) and ate a bite there. Then my flatmate was on the same street shopping, so I met up with her and then we took the bus home.

The other American in the office here is transferring back and moving to NC, so her 'leaving do' was last night. That's one of those British phrases I love - "going away party" is maybe more plain of an expression, but much longer. I still laugh when I say "leaving do" though. Anyway, I was so tired I didn't get there until almost 10, and left after the pub closed at 11. I had just read this article on Brit's and the cultural norm of buying drinks, which I am used to now, but still just doesn't really work for me. I rarely have more than one drink a night, so I wind up either feeling guilty I'm not carrying my weight because I'm never going up to the bar to buy drinks for myself or anyone else, or buying a round and never getting a round bought for me. which is fine I guess, I shouldn't over-analyze it, usually everything works out. I sometimes just find it's awkward to not drink on pace with everyone when you're out in a group.

Today was not at all what I planned. I woke up early, with a headache, and then was really stressing about work and other things, completely irrationally. I finally got up and made myself a big, fat, unhealthy breakfast because I just felt like it. :) Eggs, biscuits, jam. Yum. It wasn't so bad I guess, but considering I'm still supposedly on a really strict diet...not so perfect.
At least it filled me up until way late in the afternoon!

Just before I left to go running, our landlord calls to ask if he can come by and talk to all of us. That's four people, and trying to get us all together is next to impossible, but Sunday is usually the best chance, and so we all eventually were awake and said he could come at 3:30. We are all more than a little nervous, he wouldn't say on the phone what was wrong, so we're thinking they want the house back? They don't like us? They're blaming us for damage of some sort? what the heck!?! This then starts an hour long cleaning frenzy that left the place spotless, just in case they were going to say something about it not being in good enough condition.

But no, nothing like that. They're selling the house. And if the buyers don't want to rent, we have to move. Nice.

He did offer to let us buy at a discounted price. But even with the four of us splitting the mortgage, which is actually easy to do here - thanks to an insane housing market where single people can't buy anything so the laws are made to help you buy with friends - it's still way more than I can justify paying just to not have to move. And I'd have to sell my US house to make it happen, and it's just not the right time for any of this. It's a shame, we all really love this house!