Today i met Becky, the neighbour on the shared wall side. We met Martin from the other side before we'd even got the keys. Becky informed me that our house was, indeed, the centre for swinging, free love, wife swapping parties in the town in the sixties and seventies. Not a big surprise given the mirrored walls and ceilings and pink light bulbs. She said 'I'll tell you all about Basil when you've moved in and it's too late to escape back to your old house'. Is that the definition of ominous?
The Virgin Media engineer came on Tuesday. He wasn't the most socially skilled of people and he seemed particularly miserable but cheered up when he saw the carpets and that every toilet has a phone (or vice versa). He only found thirteen phone points. There are third world countries with less. He probably took his lifted mood and went off to give to charity. Or buy porn.
