So. My new life has started. Here I am, living in South Yarra again. As my very old friend The Black Bastard said “You’re right back when we first met !”; because I was living in Rockley Road back in 1972. Malcolm Street isn’t frightfully close to there – like, not the next street or anything – but if I screamed very loudly they’d possibly hear me. [grin]

It’s quite extraordinary, to me. I go out to the Post Office and I’m walking past café after café, lunch place after lunch place, bar after bar .. It’s not fair ! – I mean, the temptation levels are stupendously high ..

You should see (a) the backs of my hands and my forearms and (b) my ankles and lower legs (actually, I wouldn’t make you suffer by having to regard those – I have the very worst there are !) .. the dragging about of cartons and things while packing and then unpacking, together with those fucking blood-thinners, have covered thes areas in quite appalling bruises. Some of them are sort of lumpy – ACK !!!

The worst move I’ve ever had, and that’s saying quite something. If you’re feeling masochistic, I shall make available the email I sent to the boss of the moving company (of course one I had never used before – the only one I’ve ever had that I would use again is down in Geelong) and you will grasp the reasons for my .. ahh .. dissatisfaction pretty bloody quickly ! However, it’s done and dealt with and I have now put it out of my head forever.

This little ‘studio’ is SUPER. I shan’t describe it until it’s really over the unpacking and putting away, so that I can add some images (pity I can’t add smells – some residents are having a barbecue down in the garden !).

Boodie is in heaven, much as I am: he found, the moment I let him out onto the balcony, that the divisions between apartments don’t reach the ground. He is the most adventurous little moggy, and off he went – right down to the far end. I wasn’t worried: he knows where his home is; and sho’ nuff he was back in ten minutes telling me all about it.   😀

Can hardly wait to show you the tennis court and the garden; and you’ll know why when you see the images. [grin]

I have yet to finish unpacking one carton, into which the arseholes who call themselves packers had chucked a whole shitload of STUFF that rolled about and became entangled and squashed and generally turned into shapes they aren’t meant to be. And when that’s done I will be able to take the flattened empty cartons down to the  industrial waste area in the basement – no more having to pay to have it taken away !

The place has a pool  and a tennis-court and a gym. Other things too  but I don’t recall ’em off the top of my head. I mean to utilise the first and the third once I have something appropriate I can wear.

I’ve made friends with the delightful couple next-door, which started with my sticking my head around the balcony division and warning them they’d be seeing a small two-tone cat zooming by, ere long. They were both ecstatic, both being cat-lovers ! We are going out for coffee next week.   🙂

I – sorry about always seeming to be talking about myself .. dunno how to avoid that – am pretty well exhausted: I got tenser and tenser as the move neared, and the day itself was just hell, morning to night. I’m sleeping well, but it don’t seem to  be enough, dunno why. “M-R sleeps well, but she could sleep better. B minus.”

For now, over and out from this happy old fart.

Did me best; and the place I liked most – studio on the ground floor in La Trobe Street – had forty applicants and they came down to two, of which I was one. The Property Manager was sure the owner would pick me but no, the other bastard got it.   😦

So I persevered with looking, and have ended up with another studio – but in South Yarra, not the city. And what a terrific little studio it is !! There’s a division between the living-room and the bedroom which is created by a quarter-wall; and the side facing into the bedroom is a set of shelves and a nifty clothes-hanging little cupboard ! The living area occupies almost half the space, longitudinally so to speak, and its glass doors open out onto the full-width balcony that the Boodster is going to LOVE !! – as will I, because it faces south and looks over low buildings to the left and greenery to the right. I shall sit out there with him and crochet. He will regard the world, as is his wont.

This little place is almost in the middle of the Chapel Street|Toorak Road nexus – not quite – and is shops, shops and more shops. I couldn’t be happier !

 Moving next Tuesday. All the usual horrible stuff going on with regard to it; but I have to say that this time it isn’t the removalists but that changes to casual labour have meant Aunty Grace wasn’t able to find people to do my packing – which means the removalists will have to and that’s thrown all the plans for the day into chaos. Doing my best to sort it ..

I would so dearly love this delightful little studio to be my ‘forever home’ (as is said so often in YouTube videos of rescue animals); but of course it will depend entirely upon its owner. I wonder who is the patron saint of tenants of rented premises ? – anyone know ? [grin]

Hokayyy .. Off to do some planning of what (if anything !) I can do on Monday to speed up the packing on Tuesday morning. We’re starting at 0700 – we’re tigers for punishment ..

I moved in here in Essendon in mid-April, and was happy. I still am. It’s the smallest apartment I’ve inhabited, but the Boodsta and I manage very well, and exist in mutual satisfaction. My wonderful helper, Luz, comes every second Thursday and cleans and cleans – easily the best ever ! – and that arvo Boodie commences spreading as much beige-coloured litter granule thingies around as poss. Sighhh ..

But. A family member here in Melbourne is not at all well, and in fact needs fairly constant attention. She lives in Kew East: I live in Essendon:

We are not close – in any sense. And yet I must make that trip more than a couple of times a week. Woe !!!

The problem is that tram seats are appallingly uncomfortable – especially the ones in the newer trams ! I now suffer chronic sacroiliitis (horrid word) and am obliged to off-set my daily fibre intake by throwing down Panadeine Forte so as to be able to move freely. What my unhappy gut will make of this remains to be seen.     😦

It can’t go on. You know what this means. I wrote to my favourite man a few weeks back —

(As you see, I managed to turn it into a whinge – I’m good at that.)

Seems logical to see if I can find an apartment in the CBD. Having ascertained (to my astonishment !) that Melbourne has my heart and always did have from the time I lived here for nearly ten years, back in my sinful youth – cf. And then like my dreams – I have also had to accept that Melbourne city proper is co-owner of it. It is, of course, remotely possible that it might have to do with coming into town every so often to morning-coffee with one or other or both of my two gorgeous men .. I s’pose .. [grin]

I went to a viewing of what seemed a delightful little apartment on Friday morning:

It was very far from delightful. That was the entire width, side to side ! The bottom cupboard on the left housed the “European laundry” – meaning there were taps for a very small washing-machine, but no space at all for a dryer; and as the balcony is about one pace wide (Boodie would hate it !), the concept of drying one’s clothes out there was to me ungraspable. The tenants being still in occupation, the bedroom housed a double (only) mattress on the floor, which occupied the space virtually from side to side – no wonder they didn’t put an actual bed in it ! The bathroom storage wasn’t. In fact the word ‘storage’ must have been considered a swear-word by the architects .. I can’t imagine who they had in mind when drawing up their plans. And for this kingdom the landlord wanted $320 a week.

So now you know that it’s true, everything they’re telling you about Melbourne rents.

But although I’ve had to tell my property manager that I’ve given up the search – for I did on Friday – I just came across another CBD apartment, which is a real one, I think. One doesn’t know until one lays eyes.

This is not an enjoyable process. To begin with, it’s one that’s been thrust upon me; and then the expenses are horrific. I guess I have to try to think positively and tell myself that if a CBD apartment that I like comes out of this, it will cut my travelling time in just over half and sacroiliitis will be a thing of the past.

And it might be super, living in the city ..

Beautiful pale morning sky .. pinks and grey swirling gently behind Luna, who might even be full ! — such beauty up there above the gum trees with their slowly awakening bird populations just beginning to be heard ..

And this is right in the middle of a fairly central Melbourne suburb.

Am I lucky ?! – I AM !

There goes a little aeroplane, ‘way up high .. Essendon Fields is just north of me, and provides any time spent indoors with small aircraft taking off and landing (helicopters too she added, without excitement).

No: I think she’s a fraction shy of full – the curve isn’t quite there on the top right. But Luna is lovely: the palest lemon against the sky’s now faded colours.

IF ONLY the camera would show what the eye sees ! But still, you can see the most important things, I think: indisputable evidence of Boodz, and my Breville Barista Express, and the balcony giving onto the trees ..

 

“Mein gott !” you are all crying: “does this mean she’s going to STOP WHINGEING ?!” ..

And the answer, my poor suffering friends, is resoundingly “YESSSSSS !”

I’ve found a really nice (nothing fancy, mind !) apartment, a small one in a small apartment building .. and that last phrase is true either way you interpret it: there are some larger apartments on the 3rd and 4th floors, but none is really big.

There you go – well, looking in one direction, anyway. Turning around you see the rest of the living-room and the bedroom, and the bathroom’s off the corridor, just inside the front door.

Oh, and the European laundry is behind the space between the bathroom door and the edge of the ‘floating’ bedroom wall (the bedroom is quite roomy enough for all my crochet stuff).

I reckon I can get my three big chairs in there no worries, and put ’em around the big grey ottoman that’s actually a spare bed. AND fit in my mesh metal kitchen shelves set. But I’ll need to get rid of the dining-room table and replace it with something smaller. I like to have challenges to occupy me.   😀

It’s in a Melbourne suburb called Essendon, in a shopping kind of area. The building itself is on a main road that has a tramline taking one directly into the city, should one have such a yearning. But my apartment is on the far side from that road, facing away from it and thus protected from traffic noise. WHILE AT THE SAME TIME, she added loudly so as to emphasise the joy, it’s three doors away from the most wonderful market hall I’ve ever seen !, and five or six away from a “Parisian boulangerie” .. Coles is a five-minute walk away. The tram goes through Moonee Ponds and Ascot Vale, both of which shopping centres are impressive.

The afore-mentioned market hall will have a post ere long, because I ain’t seen nuthin’ even remotely like it in this country. In France – yes; in Italy – yes. In Germany – sorta. In Oz – nup. A wine room; a real deli bar including a huge cheese selection (which could be larger, imnsho – but hey, who’s complaining ?); a meat section; the main enormous area filled with breathtaking fruit and vegies; a specialist groceries section; and even a section for pot-plants !! I am going to have a real problem keeping within my budget ..

So there it is. I’m housed again. I can leave this place of no intercoms and a washing-machine with a circuit-breaker that keeps failing (or however I should describe it when the bloody machines just switch off in the middle of a wash and/or a dry). One thing I’ll regret leaving: my local pharmacy, where the staff are just delightful and the service exemplary, as well as the stock’s being terrific. But who knows what I’ll find at the other end ?

Late addition: my moving day will be Tuesday fortnight – 12th April. Got a removalist booked !

I viewed a wonderful cottage on Saturday morning, in St Kilda. It was heaven, honestly. I’ll post some photos so that you can see why I fell in love with it instantly .. Or .. because I’d need to re-learn that stuff, I’ll re-post the ad ..

Half an hour ago I called the leasing agent to see if the owner had made her choice: Luke told me he was waiting on a call back from her. He also said that he’d read my application and that there might be a problem with my having a cat, as her dog isn’t good with cats. I, unthinking, told him that Boodie is an indoor cat, too precious to be let out where a dog might find him .. And then I did a mental double-take. I sent Luke an SMS, asking “You don’t mean that her dog roams at will in the cottage garden, do you ?” – and he responded in the affirmative !!!

There was a lot of toing and froing by SMS after that: I couldn’t trust myself to speak to him. I told him that even if there being some dog wandering around in the garden of the property wouldn’t scare the shit of out Boodie, I find being asked to pay $300 pw for the dubious pleasure of having the landlord’s dog outside all the time to be outrageous. And that even if I had no cat I wouldn’t proceed because of that.

I cannot indicate how disappointed and unhappy I am. Back to the bloody drawing-board for the umpteenth time .. I’m so tired of it all: so tired of viewings ..

I might just sit down and weep from frustration and unhappiness.

Late addition: here is a screen-grab of the house and the cottage (and the garden):

The ’54’ at the bottom of the main building is what’s now called 54A, and is the cottage, separated from the house by a wall. The separate ‘building’ at the rear of the block is a kind of summerhouse. I’d lay odds, now knowing about the dog’s free run of the garden, that it’s not for the cottage’s tenant but for the owner.

I was wondering what’s wrong with me that gets me rejected as a tenant, yes ?

Cf my heading up there.

This ad is from today’s realestate.com.au list. In other words, they haven’t yet managed to let it; but they have told me that I’m out.

So it’s definitely the fact that I have a cat. The owner doesn’t want a pet.

Those ‘marvellous’ changes to the tenancy laws are not policeable.

Still, I comfort myself with the very unappealing thought of living in a place whose owner doesn’t like pets ..

And with the fact that I have a viewing Monday lunchtime of an apartment I’d really like – and so would Boodie ! It has a balcony he’d LOVE, the little darlin; and no huge sliding doors. I’ve had a brief chat with the Property Manager and she said she’s seen my application and she thinks the owner and I would get on like a house on fire !

 

That was a quote from my mama which has no meaning for any of youse but can be found within the pages of ATLMD, described as ‘a Stringerism’. It still makes me laugh.   😀

I employ it here to draw attention to the near impossible fact of having found a place to rent – no need for a spoiler alert because the agency hasn’t yet announced the owner’s chosen tenant – that meets every item but one on my list of criteria:

• not situated in the middle of acres of concrete
• not on entrance where others go in and out
• not in hilly area
• not on heavy traffic (in both senses) road
• not facing west
• not in the wilds of suburbia
• ground floor or lift
• water pressure good
• large enough tank if electric hot water
• on sufficient number of elec. circuits
• dishwasher or double sink
• on public transport or close to
• shopping close by or transport thereto ditto
• taps for washing-machine
• intercom or direct access

It’s the dishwasher or double sink criterion that isn’t met. This will be met, somewhere down the line, by the purchase of yet another Domain brand benchtop dishwasher – my third.

It’s an absolute ripper of a little machine: washes glassware so that it sparkles. While I don’t absolutely HAVE to have a dishwasher, I do love the knowledge that I’m eating off really clean crockery and drinking out of really clean glassware and using really clean cutlery. For in my current hovel I am facing into a blind wall and unsure of how well I’m doing with washing the dishes. As well, being unable to rinse them maketh me very mad indeed; and I don’t have room for a bowl of clean hot water even to dip them into. I reckon I eat an awful lotta soap ..

Anyway. Apart from all that nonsense, the fact is that this little unit is an excellent example of how one can find a 93% successful place in the most unlikely kind of guise. It’s the back half (bit less, actually) of a longish house, and has been made into an independent living place. It has a lovely piece of lawn outside, with trees and all, and a Hills hoist. As you will’ve immediately worked out, it’s there for both halves; meaning that there will be some degree of meeting in the garden on weekends – possibly ..

Well, I met the bloke of whoever live there in the front half, and he’s delightful. He emerged to bring in his drying from the hoist, which gave him a big tick to start with. AND it turned out that it was he who had put in several above-ground vegie patches ! (so I do not see why I couldn’t do the same with flowers), which is several hundred ticks. He is far from being a bogan. I could share the garden, de temps en temps, very well with him.

You are instructed to fall to your knees and pray that I get it, OK ?

No, I don’t give a rat’s if you know perfectly well that there’s no-one up there: just do it. Nike away like anything.

[grin]

 

I’d done all the PT preparations for going up to Ballarat today – done ’em at high speed, as I only discovered when I got back from viewing the truly lovely but much too small studio in North Melbourne (the sleeping|living area is, I believe, about the size of my current kitchen) that there was a viewing on this-arvo that they’d whipped in while I was gone – but from wake-up this-morning I’ve been doing the maths.

The bottom  line is that I can’t afford to move out of town – to anywhere. About 18 months ago it cost me $1,000 to move from North Geelong to Maribyrnong. That’s a distance of roughly 65km. Imagine what moving from St Kilda East to Wendouree would cost today ! – it’s about 125km. Those big sums – big for just the one person’s possessions – are due in large part to the truck’s having to be paid also to return to base.

So, of course, the further away I go the more the cost goes up by a factor of 2 – well, a big chunk of it, anyway.   😦

Thus am I right back to where I was: nothing lined up for checking. Are my criteria as picky as all that ?:
–not situated in the middle of acres of concrete
–not on entrance where others go in and out
–not in hilly area
–not on heavy traffic (in both senses) road
–not facing west
–not in the wilds of suburbia
-ground floor or lift
-water pressure good
-large enough tank if electric hot water
-on sufficient number of elec. circuits
-dishwasher or double sink
-on public transport or close to
-shopping close by or transport thereto ditto
-taps for washing-machine
-intercom or direct access

You gotta laugh, team: those are indeed (in no particular order) my criteria – in a perfect world. But as this one isn’t quite perfect, I’m only too aware that  I ain’t NEVAH gonna find a place like that. Some are immutable: not facing west has risen to the top after my nearly twelve months in the top floor of the Maribyrnong high-rise; taps for the washing-machine ditto after my nearly five months here with a communal laundry. You could amuse yourselves rearranging that list in order of what you think a grumpy old person would do, and it might help ME !   🙂

Anyway. That’s the latest problem re moving. If it ain’t one thing it’s another, or some such fairly mindless aphorism ..