A picture from my room at 4am, sky alight.
I’ll miss that view – we’re moving soon. Still haven’t found a flat as competition is fierce. No landlord wants to take on a student and a young professional working two Fringe jobs with nothing lined up for September, even if we’ve always paid rent on time, are non smokers, respectful, polite, clean, and tidy. It’s stressful, even more so because I always struggle with change (and we’ve both got anxiety issues). The days march forward to September 1st and still we have nowhere planned.
I’ll miss that view – it’s become so familiar. Arthur’s seat has been a constant through that window for the past two years – and I’ve spent many hours gazing out from my bed. Curled up and unwilling to face the world, wrapped in my own misery. Some days it’ll be wreathed in a pale mist, making me feel cosy in my little haven. Others, it’ll be bright and covered with people – joggers, walkers, dogs and tourists – and I’ll be isolated with the darkness in my head.
I’ll miss that view – I’ll miss having a sense of home. If we do ever find a new place to live (which it increasingly seems like we won’t), it won’t feel like home for a while. I’ve become attached to this place, to the view, to the big windows, to the white mantelpiece with red fireplace I’ve covered in books and mementos of happy days. I’ll miss having space to put up a blackboard and instruments everywhere. I’ll miss the gas cooker and heating, and the poster we have on the bathroom door (a Peep Show cartoon with a memorable quote).
I won’t miss the ever constant road noise and shouting of revellers at 4am, or how freezing it gets in winter (the windows are so drafty if I want to sit at the desk I have to wear gloves and have water bottles everywhere). I won’t miss the tiny kitchen or the toilet that doesn’t quite flush properly. I won’t miss the vomit coloured carpet in the communal areas, nor the room carpets that feel like velcro (and are impossible to hoover). I won’t miss the huge round coffee table and sofas that take up much too much space in our living room, nor the chest of drawers in my bedroom which keeps breaking. I won’t miss being far from anything except the science campus, nor the long lonely walks home after nights out.
I’ll miss paying a decent-ish rent (the rent is going up by £150pcm for the new tenants) and walking to uni. I’ll miss dealing with a private landlord as letting agents are always a hassle (and want to bleed tenants dry).
I’m not looking forward to moving – it’s a lot of work for very little reward. It’s trying to fit things that fit perfectly in the previous space into a completely new and foreign place. It’s hard on the body, on the back, and mentally exhausting.