This ‘living in a house’ business is not for me!

That’s my lot, I’m moving out. Stupid people are difficult to overcome because you can’t reason with them, and you have to stoop to their level to fight them, which leaves your self-esteem battered. The manager of the house has clearly got some serious emotional issues, and as she’s failed miserably to make me want her, she’s attacking me at every step of the way. The house is falling apart and I called the council out who took numerous photos, checked the basement and said it was a severe fire hazard, and said the sealed windows were in fact illegal. Wall paper is hanging off the walls, all my lights in the bedroom have stopped working but no sign of them being fixed and we’ve constantly got buckets all over the conservatory floor because of the leaks. There’s so much childish drama it’s unreal and the Dutch and Russian women stay out of the way now, so I’ve got no-one with a brain to chat to.

It wasn’t just any house, it was this house that put me off living indoors again and the people in it, and the state of Wisbech town which obviously I need to visit for shopping etc.

Wisbech park
Wisbech park

This is the entrance to the pretty little park. You can see Eastern Europeans drinking here at 8 am on sunny days. The corner of the park is their toilet. They have never hassled me or interfered with me in any way, but it’s just not nice to see them. Even the girls who hang out there simply hitch their skirts up and hang their bums over the kerb to pee. Anyway, the van is packed, I’m setting off first thing in the morning. I’m actually really excited to be going back on the road ūüôā Whahoooooo….here I come!!

Still living in a house

I’m still here! But have to say not enjoying it now. Some of the personal reasons I wanted to come off the road for a while have been resolved and my friends don’t visit now due to the mafia scandal. Speaking of which, they almost caught him so he has moved out taking the Lithuanian girl with him. No-one knows where they’ve gone.

The house manager is acting bizarrely: continually making new silly rules up and challenging us for daft things. She refuses to call my dog Jack using Jackson instead, and constantly tells me to stop looking at her cos I don’t stand a chance with her. I would rather have sex with a soapy sponge than her!

Another Russian has moved in, and she has her sights firmly set on becoming involved with one of her supervisors at work. Apparently the mafia will leave her alone if she does…

Three ancient buildings in Wisbech have been burned down over the last few weeks. Some say they were insurance jobs, some say it was the mafia as protection wasn’t paid. Who knows. Two of them were listed so maybe it was a way of getting them out of the way to redevelop?

Wisbech market square, which sometimes smells of stale urine
Wisbech market square, which sometimes smells of stale urine 

I was sitting in Wisbech market square today with a sandwich. It was market day and the sun was out and it was really nice. Except the stench of stale urine was overpowering. It’s such a lovely little market town but that’s not the first time I’ve smelled pee, and not the first time I’ve seen groups of East Europeans getting drunk in the public gardens at 8 am. There have been a couple of stabbings in town lately and one guy who was beaten to death, so the town is off limits for me now.

 

Living in a house

It’s been just over a month since I moved into this house in Wisbech. I’m loving getting around town on my bike, which is very easy to do. My friends pop round occasionally too which is nice. The Russian woman who is always drunk or on drugs has emotionally adopted Jack. They can almost always be found on an evening sitting in the garden cuddling each other. Jack of course loves the attention so he’s like a pig in shit! The woman, who is about 22, clearly gets a lot from it so I leave them to it. Her ‘boyfriend’ is a married bloke in his 60’s who met her in Russia when he was working there as an engineer. He pays for her room and her keep, and her booze…

Another Lithuanian has moved in and there’s a story about him. So the east Europeans say, whoever leaves their country does so usually through an agency. The agency is part set up by the “mafia” and anyone who gains work here must pay them quite a large sum of money every month, or risk severe punishment. This lad won’t pay and so far he’s been run off the road once, and several men have been round looking for him on an evening. Two each stand at the two gates to the property while one comes to the door. We’ve been told they will never involve themselves with us, just other Lithuanians. Some medical and other belongings of one person were dumped at the door one night in a carrier bag. It seems he was beaten so badly he not only had broken bones, but also several internal injuries. What a world we live in.

My 'office' doors
My ‘office’ doors

Anyway, things are going well, I enjoy the company of the people, including the Dutch girl who is a scientist for Pedigree foods here. Very chatty and intelligent girl so we get along very well. The house manager is very odd. She often wanders around on an evening in just knickers and tights and a T shirt. The first time I saw her I looked twice and she turned to me and said “You can look but not touch.” As she’s about as sexy as a box of dead frogs sauteed in dog vomit I just smiled and continued my book.

Because of the mafia visits my friends have stopped coming round saying they are frightened. That’s a bit of a bummer, but hey ho. I find it slightly odd living here. Shopping for weeks ahead, hoovering daily, making ¬†a bed, always having other people around. It’s not distasteful, just odd. I’ve made friends with the ‘Govt man’ next door and he’s actually alright. I can’t see why they all dislike him yet.

Home is where the heart is?

For various reasons I have decided to rent a room in an old mansion house in Wisbech, Cambridgeshire. It’s been very grand in the past, but sadly it’s falling apart now as it hasn’t really been looked after. The grounds are overgrown and the house is neglected. Nevertheless it’s still a nice enough place to rent, and the huge gardens means Jack can live in a kennel in the gardens during the day and in my room with me during the night.

This is a view of my rooms windows from the drive:

The Mount
The Mount

It used to be a recording studio the owners proudly informed me, with the likes of Sting and U2 recording there. They point to boxy art on one of the walls as evidence, although there isn’t really any evidence that it was used as a recording studio but that’s irrelevant anyway. What’s more interesting is that the guy who lives next door spent most of his life ‘working for the government’ in Russia. He dislikes the house and the people in it I am told and the owner Mary dislikes him. No idea why, it all sounds quite petty to me.

Anyway, here’s a view of my room:

My room at the Mount
My room at the Mount

You can see the stripey boxes I was talking about which are remnants of the soundproofing apparently. It’s large enough and light and airy. Which is just as well as the lights are unreliable. All of the windows on the ground floor are sealed shut. Apparently this was to prevent people who rented a room opening their windows at night to let other people in. I’m sure it is a major fire safety hazard but I’ve already spent a morning unsealing one of the sash windows in my room.

The garden
The garden

This photo is taken just at the top of the drive with my windows on the left. You can see Jack’s new kennel at the foot of the beech tree. ¬£40 it cost me *mutter mutter*
The beech tree is awesome and the garden has a few spotlights to show it off at night. These don’t work of course, like a lot of things lol

Never mind. It’s all bills including internet and I have a little ‘office’ on one side of the house with French doors opening onto the garden, so it’s a lovely environment for working in.  Also there’s a short drive in front of the garage where I can park the camper, so all is well.

So far there’s a woman running from her abusive husband living there with her 14 year old daughter, a Russian woman who is usually either drunk or on drugs but causes no bother, a Lithuanian woman who is painfully gorgeous to look at and a pleasant enough person to chat to too, a young local man who’s recently split with his wife and the woman who manages the place for the owner, who is recently escaped from a cult who used to abuse her. So, a canny mix of people then!

The kitchen is enormous and 3 people can cook a full meal easily without getting in each others way, and the conservatory is large with lots of furniture so tends to be where we all hang out. Only the manager person ever watches TV which is in a sitting room large enough for 6 people. The rest of us chatter in the conservatory or the dining room which seats 8 at a push.

The conservatory
The conservatory

This is the view of the conservatory as seen from the rear of the garden. It leaks badly and is neglected, but it’s a light and airy place to meet and chat most evenings.

It’s odd being in a house again, but as it’s so big it feels better and although I’ve only been here a few days it’s OK so far. How long that lasts is anyone’s guess!

 

Absence makes the heart grow fonder?

Since returning to the UK in October I haven’t really posted that much here, but then not much really has gone on. I’ve been pursuing my GP to get my health sorted, but that’s just not working out so I’m looking forward to changing my GP.

I’m in the process of moving down to Wisbech now and renting a room, and potentially giving up this roaming lifestyle. So that’s taking some of my time up and I’m seriously considering going back to the probation service as my current job¬†doesn’t offer¬†a real living wage.

More soon.

Leaving the road . . .

Stopping smoking has got the better of me. After numerous visits to the GP and one to a vascular surgeon at the local hospital, I’ve decided to rent a room somewhere and take some time off to recover.¬†

The short version is that stopping smoking has started some physical issues linked to both the use of cigarettes for so many years, and the sudden and instant withdrawal.  Surgeon says he would expect me to get worse before I improve, and final health may be as much as 5 years away.

I really have no idea what I’ll be like in a house, but I need the stability for a while, so I’m looking at a large room in a big house in Wisbech close to friends.

I’ll certainly keep this site updated.

Window pain

I’d been down to Wisbech to see some friends, and parked up in a layby for the night after leaving. I had intended to go across to the lakes but I was tired so parked up in one of those deep laybys screened from the road by trees. It was deserted so I expected a quiet nights sleep.

And I got one.

I slept in the top bunk as I sometimes did, partly because it’s much warmed up there. I have developed the art of jumping straight into the bunk from the floor to save getting the ladder out. Yes I know, lazy! but what the heck lol.

Anyway I’d left the window open as I can’t sleep without fresh air and I was woken by such a racket! As I came awake there was such a roaring and banging and god knows what and I just lay there for a second wondering what in hell’s name was going on.
Anyway, it was a lorry driving past, tearing my open window off as it went! I leapt down into the van in time to see my window lying in pieces in the road and the lorry about to leave the layby. I leaned over and blasted the horn but it had no effect so I reached for the keys and decided to set off after him. After stubbing my toe really hard on the drivers seat base. Ouch!

So, there’s me barely awake, just in my boxers, driving down the road chasing this lorry. *sigh* My life! ¬†Anyway I’d only gone a short way when I realised the mad flapping noise was not just the wind rushing through the missing window, but in fact the duvet which was being sucked out of the window and was flapping it’s way down the side of the van. I decided the best thing to do was stop and sort it out.

Returning to the layby I repaired it as best I could with cardboard, a bin liner and some cheap duct tape. I then spent that morning trying to find a new window and guess what? £220 bloody quid! For a piece of plastic 3 feet by 1 foot! Bloody disgrace. But I have to have it so I now face a trip to Herne Bay which is the closest Barrons who has one in stock. *sigh* My life!