My Flat

Choosing a flat is always tricky. Especially in a foreign country where you don’t speak the language, and your budget extends only slightly above a cardboard box under a bridge somewhere on the outskirts of the city limits. I probably should have visited more than one, but I thought I knew everything I needed to know about my new apartment. It was cheap, it was central, my housemates were friendly Spanish folk who spoke good English, and best of all it was on ‘Casanova’ street… What could go wrong? Ok, so it turned out the place used to be a brothel… and, on closer inspection, the kitchen was a lot dirtier than I thought, but we’ve nearly got rid of the cockroaches now. At least the bigger ones. The ones that could bring down a rat with their mandibles. Does the cistern really need a cover, I ask you? And is half a toilet lid, with a jagged edge, that much worse than a whole one? I’ve kinda got used to plunging the shower, whilst I’m actually in the shower, at regular 2 minute intervals. Plus I like having a small bedroom facing the internal courtyard really. It keeps all the irritating clutter out of my life, such as girlfriends and natural light. So really, what with the location right in the heart of Barcelona’s gay district, just by a 24 hour sauna, I can’t think of any cause of complaint. A nice relaxing pad… Hang on a mo… I think I can smell gas