What Happened To Bedsits
The cost of flights to and from Málaga is €7.99, and last night I was on the brink of booking them. Here’s the thing, the flights are ridiculously cheap, but I could end up spending lots, so I talked myself out of it. It wasn’t straightforward by any means – my mind is rarely straightforward – but I battled against the you only live once principle and sided with the no harm can come to your money in the bank one.
Some people have a guardian angel and a demon. I think I’ve two demons and one is only slightly less evil than the other. The slightly more evil one be like – book the fuckin’ flight ya silly bastard, you’ve already nearly died – I may have mentioned that in other blogs, briefly – and the other demon be like – Don’t listen to that cunt (told ya, just slightly less evil), how many fuckin’ times do you have to go to Málaga in one lifetime. I’m somewhere in the middle doing calculations and thinking if I don’t go my balance at the end of the month will be X and if I go my balance will be X minus the time of my fucking life! Anyway, I’m not going, not just yet.
I’m a Gemini, so that might change. When I was a child, they called me Fickle Head coz I was always changing my mind. Now I’m an adult and that aspect of my character has not changed. I don’t want it to change. There’s an edge to not being able to easily make a plan and stick to it. That would be much too bland for me.
If I had to guess I’d say I’ve taken at least ten flights to and from Málaga since I stepped off the grid in October 2015. I’m so anal I’m going to think back – a good guess, it’s ten, sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks and sometimes for months. No wonder I miss it.
I miss the place but it’s more a case of missing my Málaga frame of mind.
I'd rather live in a tent
I had a viewing today. A studio apartment, which is the modern title for bedsit. A tiny little room with a tiny little kitchen off to the side and a separate toilet and shower room – that would have to separate, wouldn’t it? It was in Grove Park on the Portobello side of Rathmines (yards from the canal) and as I drove to it, I was looking at the beautiful people strolling around and thinking yeah, I could live here. The best thing about it was the brightness. There was a small table with two chairs beside a window and the rays of sunshine beamed into the room like little light fairies sprinkling dopamine. I hope I get it, but to quote Charlie the mechanic from Coronation Street – as I did recently – always expect the worst and you’ll never be disappointed. They showed me some other studios (yeah, yeah) at the back that were dark and depressing and there’s not a fucking chance in hell that I’d live in them. I lived in an apartment in Athboy that had lighting issues. First thing every morning, even in summer, I had to switch on the light because the window into the apartment was tiny and it was in the shadow of some monster trees. I think I'd feel quite arty living in Rathmines and it's just a ten minute walk to Stephen's Green. Oh, I do hope I get it, but if I don't I'll get the next one.
I’ve gone on too long. That’s just the way I’m rollin.’
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