Saturday, 4 September 2010

Dada.

Roman speaks. 

This week, there have been changes afoot. Roman has been "talking" more (although I'd feel more appropriate saying that he's "wording" because surely talking is the grouping together of words to form sentences and I don't think we're quiet at that stage yet).

It started with "Bababa" and "Mamama" but today I finally caught him saying "Dada" to Bryan when we were eating our lunch. Roman gets very vocal when we eat. It's simple. He wants to eat, too. He was very vocal today, sitting next to Bryan, and kept saying "Dada, da da da. Dadadada!" over and over. I had to position my camera in a way so he wouldn't notice it (when he becomes aware of it, he doesn't speak) and I managed to capture the video below (warning: it's cute!).



video


He loves Dada. They spend a lot of time together and it's lovely to see that. Bryan gets up with him in the mornings and bathes him at night - he does all the baby related "jobs" I can't physically perform myself. I am feeling oddly rested lately, though, so that's been nice.

Today Roman, "Dada" and I went to view a flat in Canavan Park, Falkirk. It was tucked away at the back of houses that looked like they were plopped out of a box or like a row of Wisteria Lane (Desperate Housewives) houses. We turned up at the property that was just around the corner from where we are now and waited around like numpties. The letting agent and some hippy looking guy came out of our future house (ha! I saw the pictures on-line and liked it straight away...which is always fatal and cursed) and it sounded like they were either making a deal or handing over keys. Turns out the flat was gone. She'd left a message on our answer phone to say so. Kick to the guts time, much? I felt a strange sense of wanting to slap her silly...but to be honest it was Bryan's fault, he's the one not checking his voice mails. He did have a reasonable excuse, though, so all was forgiven.

She had another property (the Canavan Park one) and would we like to see it. I couldn't be bothered but Bryan said yes. We trekked fifteen minutes to the property and here's the following experience:

Up a few flights of stairs. Into the flat and greeted by the hall which is long. First room is Roman's future room (I picture everything as something with potential) and it's a decent size - perhaps the same scale as his room is now - then we wander into the "master" (or mistress) room. AKA; our future bedroom. I wasn't bowled over by it's size, but then I noticed the wardrobe. Decent enough and would house what is now known as Clothes Mountain which sits atop our broken chest of drawers provided by our wonderful landlord in this place. It also had this little wicker thing which would be perfect for shoes (ha! I told you I picture everything with potential). Then into the living room/lounge. Again, wasn't particularly bowled over with it - but it did have French doors (is that what they're called?) and when I lived in London one of the houses I lived in had French doors and this was perfect for drying wet washing! I know, I'm a saddo - then onto the kitchen. Bigger than our current kitchen but that's no mean feat as we've got a postage stamp sized galley kitchen currently. Oh and did I mention the bathroom?

I never?

Well here goes nothing;

It was a good size. Then I walk in. It smells of pee. Like, really, really smells of pee. I look at the toilet and notice there is a collection of days old urine in there. So much so that some milky film has grown over the top. After gagging I notice there is slight mould round the taps and shower. Now, anyone who has been to our bathroom knows it's not perfect but I do try to keep it mould free (even though it's not and one of our walls is badly effected by mould) but to walk into a flat that people are hoping to rent and see it like that is not good. Not good at all.

I get the letting agency aren't going to waste their energy and finances in cleaning it every week (and I wouldn't ask for that) but flushing the toilet isn't too much to ask for now, is it?

Needless to say I don't think we'll be living there. Not because of the pee toilet or the bathroom, but they have white meter heating. Big no no.

I keep looking for properties, though. If you don't know: our neighbour is a nut job. I also just want a fresh start somewhere else. I love this little place but it would be nice to get to a nicer area before Roman hits the walking stage in his life - I want to be able to walk to the park with him without the threat of needles, broken glass or dirty nappies lying about.

Ah well, gotta keep looking!