204 – an elegy

February 3, 2013

And so it’s happening. After over five years of living here, after over twelve years of communal living, after thirty years of living with at least two other people, we’re about to leave Two Oh Four and step out into a brave new (one bedroom flat) world. And other than the daunting prospect of having to move house during the busiest part of my working year, and having to sort through the ridiculous amount of stuff I’ve accumulated over the past few years “you guys have far too much stuff to move this often”, it’s all very exciting.


We’ve been here for over five years. I’m going to miss living at the top of the hill (although it does mean I can buy a bicycle). We’ve had more than ten housemates over the years, and people living in the cupboard under the stairs and in the armchair in the front room. We’ve sipped gin and tonic in the back garden and made terrifying papier mache scupltures. We’ve had ridiculous parties and cosied up in the front room to watch Alien 3. We’ve sipped pomegranate molasses and roasted coffee in the bread machine, lost a hamster in the cupboard under the stairs, had arguments, stolen other people’s butter, tried to save the tree next door from being destroyed by the neighbour, brewed cider, had firework displays, sung auld lang syne, invited a small dog round as a birthday surprise for Tom, piled up loads of absurd props ready for a taxi, cooked more food and drank more fine ale than it’s possible to remember.

arts and crafts

“It’s like an old person’s house” – Rachel

“This is the best house in Brighton” – Jacob

I’ve always got rose tinted spectacles in the back of my head, so it’s easy to look back on the last few years and only remember the glorious bits. And I’m certainly looking forward to the new adventures that having an entirely new place to live. Not to mention not living at the top of a massive hill for the first time in six years and being able to ride a bicycle about again (I have only successfully ascended the hill on a bike once, and I was really drunk.) But I’ll always think of my time in 204 with the fondest of memories – (it’s the longest I’ve ever lived in a house that my parents don’t live in) – and even among the chaos and occasional high-houemate-turnover, it’s felt like a real home.


I’ll miss the hill as well – London Road doesn’t have the same cosy pubs and community spirit that Hanover and Queens Park does. Which is just another excuse to pop by and collect the post. Farewell 204 – you deserve more than a badly written blog post. I’ll be seeing you soon…

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