Ian and I have spent the last two weeks on a bit of a flat-hunt. We've got this eventual plan of buying a place someday, sometime... this little foray into the world of estate agents has been remarkably harrowing for such a small project (looking for a one-bedroom flat within 3 different areas in South East London with plenty of time to spare and a slightly flexible budget).
We've finally decided on a sweet little flat, very close to where we currently live, but without the vauguely life-threatening location. A scary thing is that while researching areas on Up My Street, we entered our current council-estate postcode, and came upon some seriously insane crime figures from the year past. Let's just say that I will now definitely be replacing the pepper spray confiscated by Air Namibia this February for the last two weeks of our stay on this estate.
In other news, Ian and I went out and had a fun night with Dan, Gillifer and NickCageGareth on Thursday (without any cameras present, strangely, for a group including four people with flickr accounts). Fantastic night, accompanied by a run-in with a John Lennon lookylikey who didn't fit the personality of the late Beatle at ALL. The catchline of the evening was Aidan(Dan's lovely flatmate)'s response to his lame attempt at a pick-up line: "Sing a few bars of Imagine or fuck off."
Muchos apologos to Dan and flatmates for my stomach's decision to empty itself a few times at his place, albeit neatly into an awaiting giant white telephone. My only consolation is that the worst of it came later the next morning, once we'd reached home; officially the most violent upchuck on record, and after four years at Rhodes Uni that's quite an accomplishment.
Upcoming: the move to the new flat, a trip to Germ-o-knee to see the sister, brother-in-law and nephew (who is cuter by the day it seems), and perhaps T4 on the Beach?
In the meantime, I present to you the sweetest picture so far this year - become humble in the presence of those eyelashes.
This is a 
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