The Greatest Moving Day Ever

Anyone who's ever moved house will know that it's an horrific experience on par with being brutally and cruelly tortured for many many days.

The packing. The throwing stuff away. The cleaning. The moving of massive, heavy objects. The renting and driving of vans. The liaising with idiot letting agents. It's a fucking nightmare.

Imagine my shock and delight, then, when I moved flat yesterday and had, all in all, a pretty brilliant time.

Crucially, I had awesome help. Not only did Laura put in a stellar performance as project coordinator and van driver extraordinaire, but her friend Louise showed up too and showed just how deceptive appearances can be - she's a thin, waif-like girl who I now know is capable of lifting twice her own bodyweight, unassisted.

My own unique role in this moving-day triple-threat team was van-packing strategist (we all know boys have better spacial awareness than girls, right?)and "staying out of the way". I performed excellently in both roles.

Because of the synergy created by our talents - driving, moving things, and staying out of the way - we defied all expectations and had unloaded all of our stuff in about an hour in the morning. I literally couldn't believe it. I kept having to pinch myself to check I wasn't in some kind of wishful dream.

Then the problems started.

We all know how it goes on moving day - the keys aren't right, the water is actually mud, the fridge has a rat in it, the previous tenant hasn't left yet, etc.

Well, we had our fair share. Except, get this, our new landlady is actually HELPFUL. I know. Take a minute to let that sink in. Crazy, isn't it?

There was a bed in the flat we didn't need - no problem, you can dump it downstairs. We don't have the right keys - no problem, I know exactly where they are.

I start feeling weird when I don't have something to be annoyed about. A strange sensation creeps across my face. I've heard it called a "smile".

Adorned with this "smile", I stepped out into my new 'hood. I needed a haircut. "A haircut on moving day?" I hear you cry! Yes, that's how quickly we'd moved in.

I'm not normally a backstreet barbershop kind of person. I like to let my hair grow, and grow, and grow. And if I do ever get a proper haircut, I tend to go for a poncier, "free beer with your haircut" experience. Whitechapel would surely provide me with new experiences.

Just around the corner from the new flat I found the "East End" barbershop. It's basically a room in a derelict building, with a chair, clippers, and a man who can barely speak English. This man, called Imran Ali, is the nicest man in the world.

Not only did he give me an awesome haircut, but he also had a great conversation with me - as far as he could. Moreover, when he realised that I'd just moved into the area, he gave me my haircut for free!

You'll surely agree with me when I tell you that this was the Greatest Moving Day Ever. Especially when I drop in, at the last, that it was finished off with a fine takeaway from Tayyabs - the greatest restaurant of all time. Which is but 2 minutes away.