Following the departure of my soon-to-be-former-husband and in anticipation of the end of the lease of our marital flat, I set out on a bit of an adventure to find my perfect single girl apartment a la original fabulous single girl Carrie Bradshaw (think sweater storage in the oven because what else would you use the oven for). I was full of hope and dreams of exposed brick, water pressure, closet space (all for me), outdoor space, close proximity to fabulous restaurants and boutiques, less than an hour door-to-door to the office but something so far from where I had been living. I needed a change – a radical one.
So I started looking in so many different areas of London that were unfamiliar but attractive: Primrose Hill, Shoreditch, Angel, Hampstead, Battersea, Clapham, Fulham, Chelsea and Wimbledon. Wimbledon is definitely the furthest from Central London but closer on transportation (train and tube) than some parts of Chelsea, Fulham, Clapham. I set myself a budget (which after about 4 visits to the pits of hell was increased by 20% – ugh London, you’re killing me) and made a list of more reasonable non-negotiables (relatively safe area, close to shops, less than 50 mins to work, excellent water pressure, enough closet space to satisfy my clothing addiction and a bedroom big enough for a queen size bed).
Everyone was all “Wait, you’re going to live on your own?!” – yes, people, I am. London has such a culture of flat-sharing but (no offense) the idea of sharing a house that is in shambles with 4 26 year olds in Brixton literally made me want to run into traffic. I wanted my own space… all by myself (cue Celine Dion but without the ‘don’t wanna be‘).
After about 748,621 flat visits (alright, it was like 25) I had found two suitable candidates – the first was TO DIE FOR. It was GORGEOUS – brand new, underfloor heating, a huge terrace, closet space, etc etc…. but… no kitties allowed AND it was about £350 over my already raised budget…. so I had to say no. Then I found it – my place in Wimbledon. 5 minutes from the station. Big closet. Brand new kitchen and bathroom. Water pressure like woah. Big bedroom. Storage. AND A BEAUTIFUL GARDEN. I was in love. Signed the lease and put down the deposit immediately.
Then I actually had to move. Ugh. I hired movers to move what little furniture I kept (new life, new furniture), sold the other stuff, packed up the dress and shoe collection, packed up the cat and moved my life to Wimbledon. I was determined to do everything myself – independent woman and all (cue Beyonce) – this included building a bed (which took 7.5 hours – but dammit I did it) and installing a light fixture. I am never building a bed again. ever.
Poor little Raj went to his new family this past weekend and I miss having him around but know he will be so much happier and well-cared for in his new home (and I follow them on instagram so I know what he is up to). Meanwhile, I am slowly settling into the apartment and am looking forward to hosting my traditional Thanksgiving in a couple of weeks (which will also serve as a housewarming) in my fabulous new home.
Wimbledon is everything I wanted and more – joined a fantastic tennis club up in the village (how is that for snooty) and have spent the past couple of weekends exploring the village, the town and the common – I love it.