There may now be a slight hiatus while I relocate from Bloomsbury to Camden as the lease is up and the street is being redeveloped into something shiny, smart and very very expensive.
It's the end of an era and I'm a little sad but after two months of looking at rat holes and shoe boxes, meeting the mad, the dubious and the dreary, it's a great relief to find a new flatmate and a new home that don't make me want to put my head in the oven.
Two people tried to scam me, I saw adverts from 'gentlemen' wanting young women to cook their dinner, iron their shirts and give them a massage in return for cheap rent and learnt just how small an alleged double room can be (about six by eight feet).
It has been fantastic living right in the heart of town with everything on my doorstep, walking to work and the gym, knowing the area inside out and having lots of space. But. The kitchen sink is now blocked beyond even the redemption of One Shot, the roof leaks, the mice are getting really cheeky, the plaster on the walls and ceilings is starting to look like crazy paving and the whole area is about to become a building site thanks to Crossrail. All of these things and more make it easier to go.
Change is never easy when it's forced on you and choices are limited; it was horribly stressful at times but there are very many worse places I could have ended up. My mother was praying for me - perhaps that's what did the trick. Or not.
I'll be living within yards of the place I lived in when I first came to London. I'm far enough away from the market to avoid the weekend hordes and still on the Northern Line - the devil I know. Camden really needs a good bookshop, though.
Moving is going to be one of the Twelve Labours of Hercules and it will take a while to get a new routine so there may be a blog break. Then it will be back to business as usual.
See you soon.