A Quest For The Hoover

I've been sent home from work on Thursday, as getting soaked in the rain on Tuesday once again proved fatal for my immunity (hello cold sore my old friend, you have NOT BEEN MISSED).

This coming weekend is all about finding a balance in between celebrating OUR TWO YEARS ANNIVERSARY and getting the flat into a state of immaculate antiseptic wonder of wonders, because Anne - our artsy & loopy landlady (who coincidentally lived in Prague when she was 17, worked in various theatres as a stage designer, drinking and smoking and discussing all things theatre and politics with certain Vaclav Havel, who would then later on become our most treasured president)- announced she'd be coming for a flat inspection on Monday.., which packed together with her son's very British*(read passive aggressive)* comments on messiness of the flat (to be fair when they came to repair our leaking sink, we had Greta sleeping on the floor in the living room in a circle of empty beer cans and using pizza in place of a duvet cover) resulted in the panic of gargantuan proportions.

Me, Carol and David mobilised for a walking trip in the sun through the Alexandra Palace park to Wood Green in a hunt for a cheap hoover and few other carpet cleaning supplies. And as we didn't get stabbed over there, we celebrated life by having an atrociously indulgent McDonald's, and visiting Greta at the end of the known world (sorry but I still don't even remember where exactly that was, but when she saw the three of us sitting in front of her house waiting for her, reading out loud from a self-help book, she's been GENUINELY surprised nobody's hurt us yet or threw acid in our faces - it was the type of neighbourhood...btw in case if you can't tell I'm really enjoying being the patronising location-snob Muswell Hill Mofo now).

She decided quite spontaneously, her London chapter having been concluded with a series of disappointments, it was time to make a move...to ATHENS, GREECE (cause their economy is something to put your trust in..not), and she will be on the plane this coming Monday.

As a result she's getting rid off several bags of towels, pillows, Ikea wardrobe, pot and pans and endless supply of Lithuanian spices and condiments, which we will never be able to decode, but will happily throw in our dishes in the coming months or years*(they were really heavy bags)*.

We somehow got it all back in our flat and Greta cooked up a Lithuanian gourmet storm in the kitchen, serving an amazing dinner of buckwheat and chicken risotto and sweet pancakes.

Me and Carol cheered her culinary efforts from the sofa, topping up our glasses of sweet and bubbly Asti ("The best German Shepherd you'll ever drink," as I've put it recalling Asti or Asta is one of the most stereotypical names you'd give to your German Shepherd in Czech), and not realising it was a full moon that night (plus being naturally gifted in the dimwit department) it sort of hit us hard (yes, we cried, but thankfully with laughter) and we've spent the rest of the evening wrestling (David I'm looking at you...and then at my bruised legs..and then back at you), smoking on the 1x1m lawn in front of the house looking at the stars, and trying to come up with the most lesbian-sounding name we could possibly think of.

Ladies and gentlemen,
it's

Jade Balinski, The Big Lesbo of Muswell Hill

Saturday we packed our snacks and made our move to Sunbury for a celebratory Spa Day consisting of a really intense gym session (although me and Carol spent most of time stretching on the Power Plate. Yes, I mean sitting on it.), jacuzzi and swim and a subsequent steam room and sauna (which trust me meant steamy and sweaty but for all the DIFFERENT GOOD reasons, wink wink nudge nudge). (just to set the record straight I'm referring here to just me and David, we don't share absolutely EVERYTHING in the new flat)

We came back home around 11pm and literally half-asleep cooked dinner and collapsed, only to re-emerge the next day with glowing skin and aching muscles, and put them to work once again in what can only be described as the mothership of all deep cleanses, and I can testify that after this mammoth effort I won't ever look at the sponge the same way ever again.

I didn't sleep much at all, because - to stay PG friendly - our anniversary had to be marked and properly celebrated even after we retired to our bedroom ahem ahem, but it's Monday and I'm sat behind my desk with a huge grin (no, not just because of the last night):

It was one of those unplanned weekends when things just naturally click in place and set in motion without extensive planning and pushing and getting frustrated or just being plain lazy. With each of us bringing something to the equation of the day, that would be missing otherwise. And this can be applied as a booklet summary to our whole new 'living together chapter'.

An unlikely combination of a *(marvellous)*Czech, *(okay)*Frenchie and a *(clinically insane)*New Orleans chick, who by some mysterious force of the Universe work really well together, never stop laughing and have actually one or two things to learn and give to each other.

I remember this one moment on Sunday morning we played some music in the flat (right now it's the new Parov Stelar, Jamiroquai, Bonobo and SALM for Lawrence), preparing smoothies and wraps for the journey to Sunbury - one for the way there and one for the way back: with beef, avocado, tomato, houmous, egg (NOT RUNNY for Carol Lawrence, never a runny one!) and leftovers from the Lithuanian dinner, sealing them in the aluminium foil and writing our names on it with black marker...that I looked around our kitchen and felt a sudden bout of sentiment for this new family of ours.

Learning that when you meet the right people, life starts unfolding seamlessly regardless the hurdles and bills and being perpetually broke (which I have accepted fully in these last few years as a simple status quo in a foolish hope I'd feel better about it by OWNING it). Since the day we moved in, this new reality felt instantly familiar and like home.
Not just as a physical space.

As with re-arranging furniture, finding the right set-up and alignment of people is a kind of Feng Shui for life, and what follows is a steady flow of energy and Zen.

Like family, it gives you a sense of safety and belonging, freedom to be yourself..

(however idiotic and no matter if it means tripping over your feet all the time, laughing too loud, having an endless record of burning pizzas or being grouchy about the injustice of the retail jobs)

..and a calm and love you can't find anywhere else.

And finding this freedom in turn gives you all the strength in the world to know whatever happens out there, you'll deal with it.
You're not alone in this.