Home sweet home

Well, I'm moved in. I've already purchased a set of sheets (cotton jersey sheets -- will I grow to regret this decision?), towels, a "duvet" (read: comforter), pillows, and a little food. Before it get too much later I need to call about an internet connection. The internet cafe, from whence I write, will, I imagine, loose its charm quickly.

The moving in was painless, and last night my new housemate threw a full-fledged dinner for me! Roast chicken, asparagus, a vegetable medley, Yorkshire pudding (read: fried batter), stuffing, and baked bananas with caramel and ice cream for dessert. And a lot of wine. I was overwhelmed! After dinner, we played the game I call "celebrity" (they had some other name for it). Oddly this game, which involves putting the names of celebrities on little pieces of paper, and then drawing them out and describing them for your teammates, is inextricably bound in my mind to not one but two ex-boyfriends (one of whom reads this blog, and will, I imagine, recall those Spruce-Haven evenings well). Of course, this game is harder when your cultural frame of reference diverges from your teammates', but I still managed to do okay. For the record: British people don't know who Julia Child is, Tim Vincent is the host of a children's TV show, and Tom Baker once played Doctor Who on TV. Now we know.

Did I mention that two of the housemates are Welsh? The two that aren't Malaysian, that is. After the round of celebrity (and after many, many glasses of wine), they took me out to the Wood Green gay bar for a celebratory drink. I felt very, very welcomed, even though the bar itself is rather tragic. (Although some of you know my personal weakness for rather tragic gay bars, I suppose.)