Finally managed to secure some finer lodgings and shall be moving forthwith. About two weeks actually, but it sounded better in ye olde Englisssshe.
It's taken long enough to find somewhere that the Council tax is at an acceptable rate. Not like bloody Narnia (Rutland), where you need a lordship to be able to afford a house with more than one bedroom.
We're (me and the missus) not moving too far, 6 miles in actual fact, but it does mean crossing the border back into reality, away from Aslan and all his little pixies. If you currently have no idea what I'm talking about, sorry but until you've visited this part of the world you won't truly understand the problem.
Rutland is the tiniest county in Great Britain and as such, charge an absolute fecking fortune for everything. Wankers…
Anyway, we went to look at the new place today in Rockingham. Thatched, 3 bedroom cottage. The pub's within a safe crawling distance and there's a big castle at the top of the hill… Nice.
Well, that's about all for today as I'm damn tired and have to start a fight with an arsehole from the Environment Agency tomorrow. I may explain why another time, but I just can't be bothered right now, so sod you all!
