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And this is Flock. I am not sure I want to switch to a whole new browser just for LJ, especially since I like me Firefox.

Anyway - I am writing this in my new study, that is, the dining room. The desk that was in my bedroom has been moved, as per my new counsellor's stern advice, into the dining room. The two chest of drawers are now in the bedroom, but as they very annoyingly didn't fit into the niche the desk was previously in, the bed had to go on the opposite wall, with much pushing and pulling and lifting and panting.

I am now tired and the bedroom, which was all nice and orderly before, is a right mess. The dining room too, with the exception of the computer desk which is a marvel of starkness and minimalist order. Won't last for long I predict.

Also, I have to find a different order of things in the bedroom because at the moment the bed is sort of at an angle.

I am not sure I am so taken with this counsellor, but I am too cold and uncomfortable right now to go to great length about it.

Also, my new GP was very nice and called me to tell me he referred me to a new psychiatrist. It will probably take six weeks or more to get back to me.

Fuckit, they take mental health seriously in this country, eh? And London is good - up North a guy attempted suicide twice while he waited for therapy.

(Don't get me started on private health care - I am broke because, guess what, no insurer will cover my depression, as it's a pre-exixting condition. Pre-existing to my coming to this country, that is. It is, believe it or not, a whole lot easier to get psychiatric help in Italy.)

It did seem that things were going fine with my mom this time around. True, she had been aggressive and bossy and rather nasty to my friend Riccardo, but I thought that situation had been defused.

Today she came to my room and entreated me to cancel tomorrow's writers' group meeting at my home. I explained that I couldn't: that the date had been set ages ago and that I was certainly not going to cancel because she felt my dining room was not up to standards. I had, during the last few days, scaled down my plans in an effort to placate her: ok, the table didn't NEED to be in the new house (although it could be); ok, we would be having pizza sitting down on the sofas instead of a cooked meal around a table. But I drew the line at cancelling the meeting.

As a result, she has been sulking ever since. I tried talking to her, reasoning to her, cancelling my night shift tonight and going around fixing things and arranging stuff, cheerfully giving her good news: but nothing worked. I came home telling her happily that I had bought lots of bookcases, so the hated books boxes could be undone: she first reacted with hostile, offended silence to the news that I had bought the bookcases in oak instead of white as she thought they should be(there is no question of personal preference with my mom: the white bookcases where the obvious, sane and rational choice, not just HERS), and then reacted with a violent rant about the painter not having put down the mouldings yet and therefore us not being able to mount and fill the bookcases. She acted as if the lack of mouldings was my fault, and my cheerful willingness to get the books out of the way compounded the offense somehow.

She slammed the food she had cooked (she is violently opposed to eating out and I can't cook when I work, much less when I work and I am in the midst of moving houses) and went to the bedroom to sulk, leaving me and poor Riccardo to eat in awkward silence.

I don't know what to do with her any longer. I really don't. In the end, I opened a beer and then another and got drunk. Seems like the only solution.

Ok, so my 46 boxes are arriving tomorrow. Wednesday my mom arrives, and Thursday it's Riccardo's turn to turn up. The electrician should be finished tomorrow (small cringe at number of working hours clocked up), and the painter should be showing up on Wednesday too.

I think from Friday on it will be shelves-attaching and book-shelving time. Sooo, if anybody fancies a deboxing weekend...

The new house is under the eaves. It's very prettily angled, and quite apart from the fact that I bumped my head on one of the abovementioned eaves this morning IS AS HOT AS HELL.

I mean, it's March. EARLY March. The sun beats down on the dormer window of what's supposed to be my bedroom, and the room boils.

Arrrgh.

Posting this from the new house!

(Tossing and turning)

That sofa is never going to make it past the bend at the top of the stairs.

Bought sofa from Ikea, which will be delivered tomorrow (hoping fervently that it makes it past the stairs), at which point a room apart from the kitchen will become somewhat inhabitable. Also bought two folding chairs, so that the total now stands at eight, plastic bags for clothes (very annoyingly, Ikea doesn't seem to stock their wonderful Big Transparent Square Bags that turned out so useful when I had to sort out my wardrobe in Italy), a clothes rack so that I don't have to buy a wardrobe in a rush to have something to hang the stuff, some stuff for the fridge (fresh milk and so on), toilet paper, and two ADSL filters so that I can try to see if the modem that doesn't work with the mac... now works. It probably won't, but what the hell.

I also have a very thin mattress to sleep on. I can't move Zip until the house is rewired and painted, because she would be too scared, poor thing.

The electrician will come on Friday to start the various things that need to be fixed and tweaked. After that, it's painting and then, finally, moving.

I also have ordered new Moo cards with my address. I will have to start changing my address in various places now.

No fever today, and feeling much better.

I am trying to draw some plans of my new house - does anybody have any advice on useful mac software to do it with? I don't really need CAD - just the virtual equivalent of small-squared paper.

I am culling my books (a surprisingly painless task, maybe because I'm not culling them muchly), and was about to pack several kilos of Locus, when I thought: "Hmmm. Do I really need years and years of old Locuses in my new house?"

So the next question is: is anybody out there interested in old locuses? Several years' worth, with gaps. In pretty good conditions. If it's institutions, academics, etc, I'm willing to pay postage. Packrats would have to pay postage for me.

Got letter from solicitors with among other things exact amount of stamp duty. Feel a lot less guilty now. Thank you Gordon Brown.

I finished assembling the Ikea cabinets in the living room. Man, they were halfway done and I'm still sore and very tired. I wanted to do the kitchen console too, but I guess I'll do it some other day. The house feels more comfy every day.

I didn't write. Worse still, I didn't feel like writing. I am waiting for the will to write to come back, and also, I am trying for the right plot to come up.

Among the story I wrote at Clarion, the one that's been more successful, to my surprise, was the one I knocked together in a hurry and with a certain degree of cynicism. It's fantasy story, and I don't much care for fantasy.

The fact is, I know why it's so successful: it's because it's fun, and it moves along, and it's full of action and happenings and striking images of things moving. I had fun writing it, and it had all sorts of things I actually enjoy - Banks and Brookmyre wouldn't be among my favourite authors else. But, for some reason, I can't recapture that thrill when I write things i do care about. Then, my writing slows down and becomes sombre and grim and depressing.

Now I'm rewriting the first chapter of my novel. It's not totally mysterious why I'm not so excited about it - I'm basically bored with the story. Still, the first chapter is the one when things happen, when there's the big accident in the space station and so on. But it doesn't feel like movement and fun, it feels... like a chore. So, I'm waiting for the "PING" of inspiration to struck.

In other news, I phoned Riccardo, who's minding the house and the cat for me in Italy, and he said Zip became all excited at hearing my voice (he'd put me on the speaker). I also heard the characteristic noises of Zip being around, namely, Riccardo going "Aaargh! Ayyy! No! Stop that!"

Meanwhile my parents have ended up giving in and letting the small black cat (formerly a black ghost, now a small and rather round black cat) into the house. She is apparently very happy about the situation, and while not very demonstrative, she obviously cares about my folks. She woke up my mom the other day with a sort of howling, and knocking on the French window glass. My mom got up and saw that she had her mouth full of little birdie (hence the howl: she couldn't properly meow), and was showing it off. My mom got back on the sofa and the cat knocked again, so my mom had to stay up and look at her playing with the bird. The cat kept looking at her, checking that she was indeed appreciating what an awesome hunter she is.

And she is - this is her third bird in less than a month. My guess is that her previous owners didn't feed her, and she had to forage for a living. Which is not easy in an urban courtyard, hence her skeletal appereance. My folks fed her, but she seemed to be a bottomless pit. She had two litters on that diet.

Now that my parents feed her regularly and abundantly, having abandoned all scruples about ownership, she had the leisure to bring the birdies for them to see.

They have decided to call her "Cat".

I had been following the political news closely because I thought that, after all, I would have to make up my mind who to vote for...

...then realized that's at least five years down the line. Uh-ho. Talk about being eager.

A few days ago I was listening to the Chumbawamba's Goodby to the Crown, which is a cracking good tune, and felt distinctly uneasy and disloyal. How pathetic is that?

I am trying really hard to switch from coffee to tea. Please tell me I can apply for citizenship even if I fail, because it's not looking good right now.

...when you move to another country:

Photos of mom, of me and my grandmother, of various friends, of long-dead cat.

B&W photos from when I still hadn't betrayed the sacred art of the silver gelatin for the trashy, flashy way of the Photoshop.

Old, lovingly cut out prints of Jim Burns, which I have never managed to hang because of their strange shape.

Hokusai's Great Wave, a nice print bought I forget where, never framed.

Rather tacky prints of Hiroshige, cut out from old calendar, from some wonderful, expensive Habitat frames I can't take with me.

Magnets from the fridge.

Old jewlery box, handed down by my mom.

Box of fold-back clips from Clarion.

Plastic filter-holder for filter coffee

Cutlery, plastic chopsticks (ten sets, from Ikea), jar top opener

Far too many books. Considering that they were carried all the way to Italy from abroad once already, too

Things you leave:

Salgado poster - not a shade of the beauty and power of his photos, which I've seen in the silver gelatin. Had a peek at how a real Salgado print goes for: $1,800 to $3,700. Can't afford them.

Escher posters - too spooky

Books - each a scream of outrage. Can't fit them all in the suitcase

Soapstone turtle - too heavy

CDs - should have ripped them when I had the time. Can't fit in the suitcase.

Glass lampshades - too heavy, can't fit them, would break in transit.

Inkjet print of Commander Straker - embarassingly childish

Photos of ex-partner: because some things have got to be left behind

I managed to maximize the chances of my suitcase causing undue alarm and delay and possibly even inspection by packing cutlery, coat-hangers for skirts, orchid fertilizer, and several suspiciously dense rectangular objects in it.

After it had closed, with a bit of effort, I realized there was another book I need to take with me - Chabon's special number of McSweeney's, the Thrilling Stories one. So I went and picked it up, and looking at it noticed that it had Nick Hornby in it, and realized that I still have to read "How To Be Good".

The Chabon anthology, I realized looking at the sticker on the back, I bought in Seattle when I was at Clarion in, ahem, July 2003. The Hornby I had bought before going to Seattle, taken on the flight in with me, put on the shelves in my first Clarion room, moved to the other side of the house, packed (together with the Chabon) in one of the Five Boxes, mailed back to Italy, got it lost, found it again after six months, unpacked, put on the To Be Read Real Soon Now shelves, and now I'm packing it again to take to London with me.

And still I buy new books.

Sigh.

I signed the tenancy agreement yesterday. I will move in on Saturday, and I even have a phone line! they gave me the number but the operator was speaking so fast and so efficiently that I have at least two versions of it. I guess I will have to plug in a phone, and call myself, to see if the number appears on my mobile. I have just bought a phone and a radio. Now I need a tv and to know if I can get Sky - for some reason, I'm really really nervous asking the landlady if I can put up a dish.

I am in a terribly overheated Starbucks, just had a chocolate mint bliss that really lives up to its name and don't particularly feel like eating the sandwiches and crisps I bought. Life is good, and apparently I haven't gained as much weight as I thought.

Update: Oh well, I wrote the above and then didn't post it.

Now I am in the flat, with a dialup connectiong, and I still haven't made up my mind about which provider to go with. I actually signed up with freedom2surf, then realized that I could get tv too with homechoice and cancelled, then found out that ukonline gives you uncapped access cheaper than freedom2surf... And right now, I don't know. The landlady (who turned out to be wonderful) said she has absolutely no problems with me putting up a dish for Sky. Oh joy.

Of course my money is running out now. Today I went to Ikea and practially furnished the whole house in one go. I got the bed, a sofa, a table, one chair (long story; yes, I probably should have bought at least two), and lots and lots of other stuff. It was a very happy day. I have orgnanized a sort of bed for myself in the living room with folded up throws and the new duvet and pillow. I tried freedom2surf pay-as-you-go dialup but it didn't work, for mysterious reasons. So today I went at the Apple Shop and used their computers to find out about Virgin dialup. I'm connected with them right now. Not the best deal, but I'll get to broadband eventually.

It's tuesday as I write this, but I'm not sure when I'll be able to post. There are a couple of kids who moved in the residence, and they always seem to be either playing on the stairs or playing with the computer. Yesterday I sat down to download my mail and they started running up to me to look at me and tell me things in a language I don't know. They are sweet but they are also a nuisance.

Anyway, it seems as if I'll be signing the contract for the flat tomorrow, so, hopefully, I'll have a line soon and therefore I'll be a fully functioning human being again. It will have to be dial-up at the start, I guess, but at least it will be dial-up when I choose in the comfort of my home.

Yesterday I missed the reading at Borders because I realized at half past six, when I should have gotten up and gone, that I was just too tired. You can beat lack of sleep for a day, but on the second it gets really hard. I was pretty downcast about it, especially since there is a long wilderness of not-fan-meet in the future, but it's hard to argue with sleep deprivation.

Everything else continues to be good, and I enjoy the work, although I don't know if the work enjoys me. Went out to have dinner with Paolo and Paolo's parents Sunday night, when Paolo and his mum had this sort of friendly competition about who could stuff Anna the most. I had to decline the second slice of chocolate cake with whipped cream, it got so bad.

I manage to reach the Ikea after the usual long and wind-swept journey and buy a mattress pad. I realized only after having brought it home (through further wind-swept suburban wastelands, three bus trips and one tube plus a lot of walking) that there actually were no beds able to accommodate the 180x200 mattress that was supposed to go under my 180x200 mattress pad. I suppose it will have to be more windswept struggle with public transport to get it back and get a replacement. Or not, since they didn't stock the 160x200 at Brent on Sunday. I could check if they have it - had I a line.

Oh, and after a long period of soul-searching, it comes down to two alternatives: ukonline and freedom2surf. Comments, suggestions, horror stories? I have to say that while I am fairly confident that ukonline serves my area, I'm not so sure freedom2surf does. I need a BT line to find out.

Later: No kids! :-)

Well, it hasn't been an easy day. Among other things, I came home dripping wet, trousers slapping wetly around my calves, shoes leaking. I didn't get any of the truly vital things done, like getting my NINO and opening a back account; or buying an umbrella for that matter.

But the training is going well, and I have certainly no time to feel nostalgic. Even the rain is preferable to the wet gloomy white fuzz that was smothering Padova when I left yesterday.

Now if only I could get to the Ikea and buy some sorely-needed tea-towels and one of those nice plastic table lamps that went for 2.95 euros back home...

Update: residence paid, now they won't kick me out. Made appointment to see nice housette in the sticks around Kingsbury. Got UK phone (provisional), number on request. Bought umbrella. Bought real AZ with the sticks on it. References starting to come in. Bought dishcloths and cleaning stuff. Am in Starbucks feeling part of the world again. Sunny out.

Had a Now Or Never lunch party at my house with closest friends. Some of the friends couldn't make it, in one case for a very sad reason that cast a bit of a pall on the day for me. But Giorgio travelled from Modena to be there and I was very glad to see him.

It was very good, I got drunk and fell asleep on my sofa, which is not something you are supposed to do when you throw a party, is it?

My mother and father were around but had lunch out with friends. My mother cleaned the house from top to bottom because People had to arrive (though the People in question were a) used to my house and b) would probably have been shattered by the unusal state of order and neatness of my house before my mom had a go at it.), then cleaned it all up again because People have come. She feels very guilty because she's not leaving the house spotless for Riccardo.

Riccardo went away after lots of teary goodbyes. I'm happy to go to London but I did have people I love here.

Plane tomorrow. I don't know what and if I'll have a connection in the near future. I figure I'll have lots of mocha at Starbucks'.

Done vast amount of things in these past few days, of which right now I can remember only a few.

Got replacement ATM card. Also fixed the conditions of my account at the bank.

Got new wallet(s), one for coins and banknotes, one for plastic.

Got trousers I had bought but not collected. Tried but failed to replace shoes whose heel had broken in London.

Took appointments for: vet, Public Vet Office for cat passport, psychiatrist, old shrink, GP.

Found place to stay in London (to be confirmed, damn them - this was supposed to free me from anxiety).

Found and emailed details for references.

Called various people with the news.

Went round to old shrink with plant and framed photos, told her the news, left her in tears.

Went round to psychiatrist, closed my file.

Went round to Public Health Administrative Office, where they told me I don't actually need form E111 for health coverage in the UK. Let's hope they're right.

Went round to my GP, told him about move, got prescriptions for medicines I need, got flu vaccine.

Went to bank for separate business, been reminded about my still missing replacement credit card (the permanent one, not the temporary one I was issued in London), called Visa, been told the letter had been sent registered mail on the 10th, been told the tracking number, found out letter had been innocently kept at my local post office since 11th, went round to Post Office, got card, didn't get mad, went back to bank and gave old card back.

Took cat to vet, had her vaccinated against FeLV, tried to take blood sample for rabies antibodies count, failed after three tries with cat reduced to growling and tied up in knot, found out that it's not yet a month since her rabies shot so the antibodies count wouldn't mean anything anyway. Vet asked cat if she has learned to speak English yet. Cat said "Meow".

Fixed TV antenna on my house because it was about to fall down and injure somebody.

Dragged mom to Ikea where we had fun, spent hours, bought a few trinkets, came back happy and with sore feet.

Still do to:

* Fill out forms for job
* Buy Really Big Suitcase
* Pack Really Big Suitcase
* Phone accomodation in London to know how to get there
* FINISH REVISING BOOK ELSE LUIGI KILLS ME SLOWLY AND PAINFULLY
* Buy medicines and flu shot, talk Riccardo into giving me same
* Organize Now Or Never party for friends at my house
* Take cat to Vet Office for Passport
* Panic

It's official: I have had the phone call from the agency that they've offered me the job. I start next Monday.

After a very anxious night last night I decided that while very grateful for the various offers of hospitality, I probably need to be able to freak out in privacy and that I would feel very uneasy living off somebody's generosity, and rented a room for a month. This doesn't mean that I won't need company and/or cats, although for the first two weeks I'll be busy every day from one to nine pm. (I'm not sure about the weekends; I suppose I may be free then, but I don't know.)

Am I happy? I am very happy.

Am I panicking? You bet. :-)