The new flats have now been booked, and we're all happy with how it panned out. This, however, did not come easily.
My whole day was wasted queuing to sign my contract, some flat members had gone very early to reserve some places and pay the deposit, but we still needed to all be there in person eventually.
A friend and I started to queue at 10:30am; we got out at 3pm. This four and a half hour marathon queue was pushing for a record. I didn't like the prospect of it, we were moving about four feet an hour, but the actual experience was rather different to what I expected.
In the true British fashion, we made sure the line was straight and started talking between ourselves, finding common ground at every instant. We made 'queue buddies', sharing our boredom between ourselves; we even noticed an odd leaflet entitled 'rules of good badge care', which at the time seemed quite funny.
It's not that interesting to talk about really, but it did get me thinking about queues. They're funny things really, especially in Britain or with Britons abroad. Today's wasn't a queuing record in my life, but it made me think back to other ones. I remember once in Italy I spent a day waiting for a train, Italy being Italy, everyone rushed in a strange bunch to the ticket desk, you could tell the British tourists apart; they formed a strange line behind the crowd. Sure enough, we stuck at it while the others went; after almost 24 hours in the same place together, we developed a real relationship with each other. Looking back on it now, there was a certain romance in our situation which never comes to light until afterwards. I'm still in touch with three of those people.
This could be seen to a lesser extent today, we went back for sausage butties in someone's flat afterwards! I'm not sad at all that I'm not standing in that long never ending line of people anymore, but why is it I wish I could do it again somewhere else?