My House, My PENTAGON?

End of week 5.

How is it hanging out there? Hope it’s nothing like a cough and things start smelling like bacon. The weather is like the trains on the railway track these days: clouds come, then go, then the next one cometh. And before you know it, you’re soaked.

It was a really busy busy week. Had an assignment, an ongoing assignment, an incoming assignment, and an essay for countdown to New Year. And since the sun set at around 4pm these days, it brings back the memories of working overtime back at home whenever I walk out into the dark in campus. Minus the driving. And the quick stops for supper at the coffee shops.

As mentioned in the previous, yeah, I’ve moved out of campus, and into a proper British housing area, but with lots of students. Think of it as the area surrounding UTAR: like 21 out of 10 houses are rented out to kids that flew ten thousand miles from home, with a couple of angry neighbours slipped in between.

So let me run you through the property first. Gotta 5 rooms; 3 toilets (2 dump, 1 drizzle, all mutually exclusive in their respective cubicles); a kitchen big enough for a Kelisa; a living room that can hold a couple of sharks and enough seating for our, err, jingles, all 5 jingles; stairs steeper than a chicken’s bottom; and a big, utterly useless plot of land known to man as the garden that sits as a constant reminder of why the landlord just didn’t extend the house all the way to the boundaries so that the toilet rolls wouldn’t disintegrate when they roll down the perpendicularly built staircase. But even with all these, one fact remains: that it is indeed a very nice house. Its gotta new cooking hood; washing machine that dries and a drier that washes; great IKEA sofas for 5 gigantic jingles; nice carpets; and the sheer number of locks on the front door that its right up there with Mr Bean’s, and is probably the best display unit on the variety of things you can possibly put up onto a door.

Let’s move on to the rooms then. The house layout is comparable to what you find at home; double storey terrace houses, with 1 room downstairs and the rest vice versa. The ground floor room is the biggest, and though unlikely to be able park a truck in there, it could maybe hold 3 years worth of old newspapers. Or roughly the size of a Hyundai Sonata 2.0. Full spec, not less.

Upstairs, the size of the rooms now can be properly illustrated on a bell-shaped curve. Except that it’s the bell you install onto your bike. Upstairs is where the extreme lies, very much like how a cute little roll of toilet paper sits next to the humungous kitchen wipes. There are 2 proper, rectangular-shaped rooms, both facing the main road, and both occupied by equally rectangular people, I meant bed frames. Ones got a window the size of a, err, small window; the other has got bar stools and a really high table to accommodate the heater underneath. No, it’s not the stools you make when you eat 15 burgers at the nearby pub, ‘tis those high chairs that are upright and designed to create epic proportions of discomfort to your jingles.

Then, on the other spectrum of kee-eee-ring bell, there’s the ‘reasonably sized’ room that will probably park a Smart, provided that the car comes with a sunroof for the driver to escape. But then again, the car will be blocking the room door, so he’ll still have to figure out a way to leave through the ceiling. Or just come in something else. An ironing board, perhaps. Anyway, swaying out of topic, an apologetic salute if you need some. So yeah, it’s a cosy room, almost squarish in size, but has a window that you can hang 3 weeks’ worth of laundry to dry. And still get light into the room. Big.

Last, but not least (in terms of size, of course) is my room. Positioned right in the middle of the bell graph, where metal hits a bigger piece of metal, it betters the rest of the rooms as my friend discovered recently; it’s got more walls than any other parts of the house. 10 to be precise, 5 if you start crying. Part of the chimney goes through my room, hence the few extra walls. And THE PENTAGON sits right at the corner of the upper floor, which is why I can only open the main door and the wardrobe one at a time. Otherwise, it would look like something out of Narnia, and people would start entering my room and walking into my socks. The window is also probably one of the largest, but with such a view out of it, I’d rather move the wardrobe there. My room faces the ultimate representation of extreme garden maintenance, and the railway track, so there’s nothing to surprise me every day, unlike the taekwondo wushu I-P-MAN ducks last year. But at least it’s quiet, and I’m pretty delighted about like. Unlike the heater that is installed right next to my bed that if I max it out at night, I’ll wake up looking like your typical English breakfast; ham&ham.

So there you have it, short post with whimsy ideas and queasy language. Anymore apologies you need, you’d have to YouTube it yourself. This is it, my house, my crib, my grotto, whatever you want to call it. I think I’d call it THE PENTAGON. Or maybe not.

Staircase

My window. See, I'm not lying.....

Kitchen

Main Entrance

Sofa, baby!!

p.s. photos turned out weird on the blog, blame the 3-megapixel limit I'd used so that it would load on blogger. Otherwise, it'd be 12, and no photos will get uploaded.