Tag: room

A Change of Scenery

Posted on by John Hutch

I’ve found it a bit silly that I’m paying for this blog page and not actually using it. Blimey, it’s been some time since I last posted anything.

So yes, the time of my tenancy in this gorgeous house of 19 The Walk, Roath, Cardiff is coming to an end in just one week’s time. Do I regret it? Yes, I’ll miss this place. I love my bedroom with its mantlepiece and window and space. I love the feel of this place as it’s become a proper home to me.

So why move, John??

In a word: Finances. Oh, and in another word: Fucking-Housemates-Who-Don’t-Pay-Bills-And-Council-Tax-When-They-Should. Ok, that’s obviously several words, but I felt it had to be put out there.

Seriously though, the shit I’ve had to put up with; people using electric heaters on full blast 24/7, people bickering about the cost of bills, and the mess… the MESS! In all honesty, everyone in this house knows that if it wasn’t for ME taking responsibility by sorting and sharing all the bills, contacting all the energy and tax and internet providers, then this place would have gone to the dogs.

What I hate about this place IS all that responsibility – having only MY name on the accounts – to have to chase people for money, only to have them walk over me or pretend they don’t understand my language. And the people who are on fucking benefits! God, I detest them. “I don’t have to pay council tax because they’re paying it for me.” NO THEY’RE FUCKING NOT! THEY’RE ONLY PAYING A SMALL PORTION OF IT FOR YOU, AND YOU HAVE TO PAY THE REST! And yes, they’re making ME pay it instead. Well not for long. I’m Out of here and I’m going to set myself free!

The council tax for this place has been extortionate. And after we had one housemate do a runner, the whole council tax system just went to hell. We’ve had summons and reminders and deadlines galore. Course, the council don’t give iota about who’s share is what. They just want the money.

My housing agent, Umbrella Homes, had a rather ‘clever’ and interesting idea of how to sort it all. They basically told me to lie to the council, to my face, and tell them I was living at home with my parents elsewhere, so that they’d think the house was only occupied by students.

Clever? Hell no!

For one thing, if the council FOUND OUT I’d been living there illegally they would come down on me like a ton of bricks and throw my ass in jail. For another, they’d know who was living there because they KNOW I’m registered with UMBRELLA HOMES – who I no longer trust as far as I can throw them. Landlords who change their minds at the last minute, who don’t give you warning that they’re giving a house viewing.

Oh, and just to dip the biscuit further, our foreign housemate, who’s suddenly on benefits, is screwing one of the guys from the housing company. Goodness knows what other benefits she’s getting from them. She’s on benefits, can’t pay bills much on time and yet she still has money to go to the gym in Cardiff. I’m working a full time job and I can’t even afford it at the moment.

*breathes and relaxes*

So you see what gets my gut up about this place.

And the fact that people don’t wash things up after they’ve used it –  the crockery, the dishes, left on the side for days and days. And NOBODY TAKES THE BINS OUT! NOBODY actually RECYCLES properly – seriously, the times I’ve seen food in the big recycle bag and not in the food bin. It really does get on my tits. There’s no organisation at all, except for mine.

OOOOOOH but yes, that’s one thing I CERTAINLY look forward to! When I move out, I’m going to TAKE DOWN each and EVERY poster I’ve stuck up on the kitchen/living room wall about the NPOWER account, the WATER account and INTERNET. I will take GREAT pleasure in leaving these flat headed lazy numbskulls in the dark and to their own fate. See, this is what happens when you always rely on someone else to do all the paper work – you end up lacking the experience.

Of course not all the housemates have been tossers. There have been a few genuinely nice people here too. If it hadn’t been for Yohannes and Naveen and others, I’d have gone mad in this place. Sensible, trustworthy gentlemen. The world needs more of them.

Originally the plan was that I move to a new place with a group of housemates – Yohannes and the Romanian girls. But my finances are well and truly fucked at the moment so I’ve had to pull out of that option.

I was going to move home and commute back and forth on the train to work, but then fate landed me with a very good friend and his friend who invited me to live with them. A cheaper place than I could even dream of, with all bills included, brilliant housemates and NO NEED TO PAY COUNCIL TAX at all!! It’s a dream come true!

I move there at the end of this month. And the great thing is by Christmas time, I will be OUT of my overdraft and into the clear!! This is something I’ve fought for for years.

At last, things are looking up 🙂

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The Mariot

Posted on by John Hutch

I’ve just got back from the gymnasium in the Mariot Hotel (Cardiff City centre), and what an experience it was too!

I’ve not been to the gym for ages, due to the fact that living within the city centre is expensive enough in itself and I’m too lazy most of the time to get out the house and just run. I figured, seeing as my younger brother Chris is, by far, a damn sight more buff than me, it’s time I actually pulled my finger out and got fit.

Picture Me in Speedo’s. “Ah yeah” *cool expression* XD

So how did it all begin? My friend, Lauren Entwistle, joined the gym yesterday evening, at the Mariot. After discovering she gets a number of of VIP tickets – allowing a friend to come along for free – she decided it was a great idea for me to come along with her. We’re like brother and sister, although most of the time she plays mum. (Yes, I’m a lot older than her, but it’s funny half the time).

So this morning we arranged to meet at 10am at the Mariot and use it’s illustrious facilities. We were each given a towel and a locker key, and then made our way to the changing rooms. I expected a scattering of hot young talent – you know the type; smooth pecks, tasty looking shoulders and a cheeky smile to die for – but the place wasn’t that busy at all. In fact it was slightly empty apart from a few middle aged guys. Well, it was 10am in the morning. Shame, I thought. I was hoping for some eye candy!

After locking my stuff up, I joined Lauren in the main gym room. We started on the treadmill, which was great fun, and I got up to a fast walking pace. Didn’t fancy running – it was only the first day, and I’d be running up and down stairs for 6 hours in work (Nando’s St Davids 2) later on. I got up to quite a pace and even increased the height considerably – well, I am a ‘valley boy’, so I should be used to steep inclines. I used to sprint back and forth to school as a kid.

We completed a 20 minute workout and the machine came to a stop, though my legs still felt as if I were moving forward at great speed, even whilst standing still. Next up was the walking peddle thingy machine… I think people call it a Gazelle. It was slightly tricky to stabilise on it, as it felt like I was hobbling from side to side, but I managed to get the hang of it eventually. We didn’t spend too long on it though, as apparently (according to Lauren) you shouldn’t push yourself too hard on the first day. So we moved on to do some stretching and sit-ups with a medicine ball.

I’ve not done sit-ups in a long while, and it’s not one of my favourite things to do. But doing them with someone else is a lot better. We used the medicine ball to give some weight and Lauren stood on my feet to help me. I really don’t have much muscle in my stomach. I’ve never had a six pack or even a four pack. I’ve just been thin and pretty much average. Being a guy who detests violence, I figured I’d never need to be built like a brick shit-house. But then, it’s important as an actor to keep in shape and refine the tool that is your body. I’d better get started then!

We then got changed for swimming. Now, I’ve not been swimming for well over five years – since way Way WAY before I came out with my bisexuality. Hence why I didn’t go swimming much at all. Apart from the fact that I can’t swim (I sort of splash and float like a concrete brick), I just felt very conscious about the fact I’d be surrounded by other hot guys with amazing naked bodies – I was never too pleased with this incarnation of mine. But that was back then, and not now. Though I still can’t swim (much) I’m a lot more comfortable with myself and sexuality. (Bit of a daft reason not to go swimming in the past, to be honest)

Before we hit the pool, Lauren and I entered the Sauna – a hot steamy room that I’d never been in before. God, it was hot in there, but it felt brilliant. Apparently the heat is meant to detox your body through sweat. The tiled seating was hot to sit on, and you could feel the condensation going up your nostrils when you breathed in. It was relaxing though.

We then used the pool, which wasn’t deep at all. In fact it only came up to my chest, in the deep end, so there was no worry about drowning. No diving either (for obvious reasons lol). I did a couple of lengths back and forth and realised I can sort of swim to a certain extent. It’s the breathing I have trouble with. Sometimes it’s like I panic in the water, short of breath, which causes the heart to go mad and you naturally wanna breath faster and whatnot. I just need to control my breathing and it should be fine really.

The last time I went swimming was at some mad boring ‘Christian camp’ called Hebron (which was in Cardiff), where they keep you in for a couple of days, sing songs, do activities and whatnot then have mass praying sessions and the odd “conversion” evening. It was alright at the time. But when it came to using their pool, some idiot called Damian (no, not the Anti-Christ) decided he’d be a show-off by performing a backward somersault off the side of the pool into the water. Well… he ended in the water alright, right after he smashed his skull open on the concrete side. Blood poured into the water, spreading outwards. He was rushed to the hospital and bandaged up. But they sterilised the pool, after, with enough chlorine to blind a horse! My eyes stung like mad.

Luckily, this pool at the Mariot was nothing short of pleasant. And the fact that we used the jacuzzi afterwards (I’ve never been in one before!!!)… it was like being on holiday! The best holiday ever!! I’ve not been that relaxed in a very long while, and after all the stress, and that mental breakdown I had last week – yes, it’s a hard life being an agony uncle (or as I like to call Doctor) to so many people – this was just what I’d needed to relax again.

*Leans back in the jacuzzi and sighs to oneself in relaxation*

Am I going to come back? Very probably! XD