This week I’ve moved into a new house-share. I imagine I might write a few posts about that (*looks at the two draft ones he’s already started*).
I’m sharing currently with two Hungarian guys, and one Frenchman. There’s another room just been agreed by a girl (British, white), and when she moves in – that will be the house full. The Hungarian guys have been here a week, enjoyed a few days of unseasonably-glorious sunshine, and are now a bit bored/freezing as the cold weather has returned, and their National Insurance numbers haven’t turned up yet, to allow them to try and find work.
The Hungarians have hit upon the idea of going to a “discothèque” this weekend, and as the only ‘local’ in the house, they’ve asked me where a good one is. They also want me to go with them. I’ve told them immediately I hate clubs, dancing, and don’t drink. I couldn’t be less interested if they’d invited me to a live assassination, or a vegan restaurant (come on – there is NOTHING that doesn’t taste better with a bit of butter or honey rubbed all over it). Continue reading The discothèque?