There seems to be no end in sight to the relentless strangers parading through our house. Yes, we are advertising for a new flatmate. This is a chore, in our house at least, for which an end is never in sight.

Kev's room is vacant, Nigel wants to move to a friends place down the road in a month, Jax and Daryl are talking of moving in with some friends when they get back from Southern Africa soonish and me ... well I need to either get rid of or sublet my room by the end of March.

It will never end.

Already the mad have surfaced. Even after years of vetting experience some slip through the net and arrive on the doorstep. One of these was Chris who turned up on the weekend.

He was South African. Already a bad sign (not that I haven't met loads of lovely saffas but you know how it is). He had heard about a passport scam back in SA and thus had spent the past SEVEN years working on an Icelandic fishing vessel in order to get any passport that wasn't south African. Upon receiving the passport two weeks ago he gave a weeks notice and fled to London. Not liking him that much I told him to give me a call the next day after which I resolutely ignored his calls. I realised that my decision had been a sound one after the c alls kept arriving after midnight and at his arrival at our doorstep with all his possessions on the Sunday. "What do you mean I can't move in - I told you had to be out of where I was staying this weekend" "But I never said you could move in" SLAM.

I did feel a little mean but surely 10 missed calls and an unanswered message would make it abundantly clear that the answer would be no. And anyhow I don't think that the cat would survive a constant level of the excitment he experienced in Chris's presence. "Wow the cats friendly"

ros from URL @ 5:15 pm