We’re on the move
Mr Meep and I have decided to escape the dirty people and move to pastures new.
I have some savings, Mr Meep’s job situation can only get better now he is fab web design-type person, so we’re off. Off to lovely North Cardiff (hopefully) – home of leafy parks, delis and coffee shops and Guardian-reading artist-types. Ok, maybe that's slightly rose-tinted, but it’s a lot better than the chav-tastic location we are currently residing in.
Here are some things I won’t miss about living in the (ahem) up and coming suburb of Splott.
1. The electronic message board in the window of the local leisure centre that offers ‘Badmington’.
2. The woman with no manners in our local newsagent, who shows customers photos of boobs from her copy of the Daily Sport.
3. The shop that’s just invested in a new sign advertising that they are an Off License.
4. The teenage whore who screamed “Get your fucking rat away from me” in my face the other day when I was walking Blod.
5. The people who let their dog shit all over the pavement in our street.
6. The family up the road who let their teenage son have a drum kit in the shed, and their tone-deaf 7-year-old daughter have a karaoke machine in the garden all summer.
7. The charming youths who threw a stone through my spare room window last year.
8. The other charming youths who threw eggs at the front of our house on Halloween.
9. More charming youths who pulled the side mirrors off our last two cars.
10. The even more charming youths who were jumping over our gate into our garden last Sunday night (the last straw – but thanks, kids, for spurring us into action!).
When I think “Aw, but I’m going to miss my lovely little house”, I will remember all these horrors and reassure myself that I’m doing the right thing.
Anyone want to buy a two-bed end of terrace in an exclusive Splott cul-de-sac?