8150/21070
Whilst it's been supercool to own two houses, when so many people don't even own one (and to be fair the bank owns more than half of both of them), it's been the opposite of supercool (not super hot because that's being sexy, super luke warm?) to have to be paying two mortgages and two sets of bills for a whole year. Actually it hasn't been supercool in any way. It's been really rubbish (not as rubbish as having no house and renting off some prick, but still), but I think worth it as we really wanted the house we've ended up in. But, whisper it quietly (is there any other way to whisper?), we might be about to sell one of the houses. And if I have got things right it's the one we want to sell. The buyers have leant us over a table and fucked us up the arse, but we have sold it (subject to contract). Buy high, sell low - that's been my mantra with property. Like that fella in the news (admittedly not in the UK news because we're not allowed to report on it here, due to his high status) I love being fucked up the arse.
Somehow we've managed to wangle it so that whilst we'll get rid of one mortgage, we won't be able to take a whole lot off the other. But still, having just one mortgage will be a result. And after that I will never move house again. They'll be taking me out of this place in a box. As long as Catie doesn't kick me out. But why kick me out
when murdering me will be so much more profitable? And satisfying. So I still end up in a box and thus I win.
The move is hopefully happening imminently (I take nothing for granted and know these things fall through all the time, so am counting no chickens) , so today we went back up to the old place to get the stuff we've left there. Or some of it. There was more than I'd remembered. Including the gravestone from We're All Going To Die, which I didn't have room in the car for. Even after two trips. Can I leave that for the new owners?
We spent seven not entirely happy years in this place. Covid and cancer, getting through the difficult sleepless years of having young kids and a tricky first year of living in a building site with a new baby (and dog), mean that there are some bad memories associated with this place, as well as the less crappy ones. We loved the village and the friends we made (who we can still easily see) and I am glad we ended up here, but the new house already feels way more like home than the old one and so we both found this a weird and emotional experience, as we boxed up some stuff and binned some other stuff. All in all, as much as I liked being in the countryside and being dad to two kids here, I think the negative outweighs the positive. It is the house where I was haunted by the ghost of my not dead son.
We took a box of glasses and crockery to the charity shop but they said they had way too much of this stuff already and we only got rid of a bread bin. So more stuff to probably throw away, though some of those plates have been with me since the last millennium so have served (literally) their purpose.
I went back to load up some stuff to take to the dump and still there's stuff that needs to be cleared, donated, or dumped. It's weird to have to do this yourself. Usually it's your kids job to throw everything from your life away when you've died. They will have plenty of stuff to work through then though.
Great start to the Kickstarter, but still a long way to go and it's always like this and then it goes quiet for a bit, because it's more fun to make us sweat about whether we'll make it.
Put us out of this misery and join the fun (some great rewards)
All guests now confirmed for remaining London gigs.
BOOK NOW. 
