O k we are. Yes, in fact, has not gone a short time since we wrote last ten days but have been really difficult. First things first.
Tuesday, November 9th we are landed with all our luggage to London-heavy-ready and enthusiastic to take place in the apartment found through un'aggancio of those "I know that one, which his cousin, whose girlfriend (. ..) had once been in London .. and it seems to me that .... had a home ", the flat is located in south west London, for the more practical in Putney. In our arrival, a guard would have had to show home, counters, rules of the garbage and everything else, the guardian, that John (tenetevelo in mind that name!) would have then handed over the keys and left free to clean house and take possession of the best possible way. Well, we see the janitor, sleeveless we present ourselves, bring up your luggage at the house, "will be the nice after a good cleaning!" And he calmly asked us if we want a cup of tea, a slice of cake and then a sandwich. But, how strange is the superintendent. Okay maybe it is only by very friendly with the owner and wants to be nice, but strange, do not by the suspicious just because we are in the English land. We settle, cominciamo a parlare del più e del meno e dopo ben due ore di discorso (tempo interminabile noi volevamo prendere possesso della casa!) lui ci dice tranquillamente (ma proprio easy) "ecco io adesso vado in camera e se volete dopo usciamo a cena assieme". Noi non capiamo. "Eh sorry Jhon, which room?". Momento di panico. Lui con pura e assoluta nonchalance ci mostra la sua minuscola camera, un mini tugurio che a confronto quello del Grande Fratello era una gioia. Jhon, 60 portati malissimo a suon di burro e muffin del Tesco, era il vero inquilino dell'appartamento e d il proprietario aveva ben pensato di affittare una stanza da letto, non dicendoci assolutamente nulla ovviamente. Benissimo. Perfetto. Bianco viola e rosso ecco i colori che aveva la nostra face. Black instead our mood. Very black. And now? The house was not ours, it was all to clean and our room was small with a single bed for two and a half. In the lounge, the heating was broken and the whole house is not exceeded in 16 degrees. What can I say! Welcome to London! A moment of panic, hysteria, calls to Italy even more hysterical, tell John that no I do not hate him because he lives there but we can not be happy to share a house with sixty. In reply he asked us if we want to spend Christmas with him. ?? Sorry? He said Christmas?! The situation there was out of hand, beat a retreat in the room armed with broom and disinfectant. I omit the list of what we have found under the mattress (have you ever thought how in the bed was a perfect place to keep the chocolate?) and step directly to the day when he tells us with more nonchalance of the previous day: "girls today I have to leave because I have to go in Kenya from my kids, see you when I come back, then I'll have to work the heart and then maybe go to see my other children in India and those in France. " I swear I thought I really did not understand anything and that my English was precipitated into the abyss as my mood. And it was true but no, he has children everywhere and is often part and whole months away. We were astonished but basite and more. Just enough time to say hello, hello him and he was gone leaving the hut full of clothes, blankets, food and shoes, but with a difference from the night before had put a bicycle on the bed.
This is the first installment of what has been the first week in London. Tomorrow, the sequel.
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