Finding a lease on life

So, I’ve been in London just over a week now and so far I’ve spent most of my time trying to find a place to live.

I put in an offer on the most beautiful flat which was reasonably priced, in an excellent location, and had a tiny balcony on which I would be able to sit and ponder the universe and watch the little underlings scurrying along on the street beneath me. Also, it had access to private gardens.

It really was too good to be true – as is so often the case, the one I wanted didn’t want me. Apparently as an unemployed television executive, I was not a good risk, even though I offered everything short of a pint of my blood to secure the flat (ok, I would have given the blood as well had they been remotely interested).

So I was left on the hunt again, but of course, once you’ve seen perfection, how do you settle for anything less? It’s hard to stop yourself from comparing everything back to the best, and yet, the pickings are slim on the London real estate market.

Eventually I settled and made an offer on another place far less appealing, but acceptable, because I wanted to get my life here started already.

I’m seeing shocking similarities between real estate and the dating world. I’m hoping that last bit doesn’t end up mirroring life.

I know compromise is always going to be an issue – unless you have enough money to buy what you want – but how much is too much? That’s the bit I’m wrestling with at the moment.

In the meantime, I’ve resolved to think no further about the apartment that got away, although I’m secretly hoping it will get a really horrid tenant who’ll treat it like crap. Perhaps it will be mine one day. Who knows?