Here's the background for this piece: I'm moving from London to Salford*, Manchester after 10 years of tarting about enjoying 2for1 at the finest restaurants, shaking my head at those who impede the righteous path of the cyclist and mistaking the projectile expulsion of a Recruitment Consultant's quarterly team night out as new and challenging form of street art.
At the end of June my girlfriend and I are starting the dreaded wave of gentrification by moving to a red brick terrace which we fully intend to renovate the fucking tits off, AKA, operation Hipster Heights.
Currently we're in Phase 1 which is removing every trace of the previous tenants, a 'Scrat-Hive'. That may sound harsh but this comes after spending the last two days scrubbing away their sordid existence as well as my finger prints.
From the looks of it they're a pair of Kidults; house-proud in terms of décor which was painstakingly matched with their '1990s Chechnian Nightclub' theme yet they appeared averse to cleaning products. If mutterings are correct he was a low level cannabis dealer and all that means is that for the next 6 months I'll be answering the door at 1am with a smile on my face and a teeth-shattering bit of wood just out of site.
My time in London was spent forging a career as a thoroughly mid-level Marketing Manager; living hard in the semi-nomadic world of rental property. So while I may know enough about 'big data' to bluff my way through a presentation I simply do not have any idea how to Do It Myself.
I'll be charting my progress on the path to becoming a semi-competent man here so check back frequently.
- Stripping Wallpaper. There was some paper on a bit of wall and now because of me there isn't and because of that I'm lighting a cigar with a burning dollar bill.
- Grease Removal. Take a kitchen, fan-assist the living fuck out of oven chips for 5 years and do not clean, not once. Then apply one Yorkshire man with a history of nervous anxiety with enough atomised bleach to drown an adult pig and watch the streaks vanish.
*That's Salford not "Oh my G, I'm so jealous, Salford Quays is amazing!"