New yard

I finally moved house on Sunday. After a year living with mother I had reached my threshold. While I love the woman, there is only so many times you can explain to someone how to use a USB stick before something dies inside. Another good reason for leaving is the re-emergence of the bus spotter who previously accosted me outside my house. It appears that he is back on the scene (though thankfully NOT like a sex machine). http://givingitbigballs.blogspot.com/2009/03/bus-spotting.html

The move is only partial so far, as my room is furnished with nothing but a mattress, a change of clothes and a wash bag. I imagine that you would find a similar setup within a room occupied by someone who has been recently trafficked for sex.

Whenever I have lived out of the family home, my personal space always seems to develop a sordid, unsavoury quality, despite my perfectly reasonable standards of hygiene. Before I moved back to Catford, I occupied a bedsit in Brighton. The room suffered from a distinct lack of natural light, and the sink in the corner would evoke images of gross misconduct in the mind's eye of any visitor. After returning home from a day's work at a LTSB call-centre, I would often sense that in my absence, someone had been encroaching on to my personal space. The seedy ambiance that seemed to permeate the room suggested that my room actually had been used for bought sex. I became fearful that my elderly landlord was lurking in the rear garden, waiting for me to depart for work. He would then shuffle a confused, destitute woman into my room, demonstrating casual disregard for the terms and conditions of our tenancy agreement. Needless to say I was in a dark place at the time.

Further compounding my misery was the fact that the bloke who occupied the bedsit next to me regularly did employ the services of prostitutes. Through the paper-thin walls I could clearly discern his bizarre sexual routine, whereby he attempted to mimic genuine courtship rituals. He would adhere to the same formula on every occasion:

Stage 1: Offer the lady some apple schnapps.

Stage 2: Play an ENTIRE SET of turgid acoustic songs.

Stage 3: Have furious sex with said lady.

Out of all of three stages of the process, I still can't decide which was the most distressing.