Exodus

And so it begins. Like Jews out of Egypt, my flatmates and I are marching out of the house and into our respective promised lands.

In a wholly coincidental, yet magnificent display of unison all five of us have chosen September as the month to move out. It secretly gives me great pleasure to think of the distress this will have caused my landlords. They and I have not always been on the best of terms. In general I think it is fair to say the feelings amongst us flatmates are not unlike those of the Jews towards the Pharaoh. There is a definite taste of revenge in this miniature Exodus.

Unfortunately, unlike in the biblical story, it seems some of the seven plagues are not being visited upon our landlords but on us, poor tenants. First there was the river. Although it did not turn to blood, it definitely turned into sewage forcing its way into the flat. Then came darkness. One by one the lights have started to go bust. But the most recent plague is one we indeed brought onto ourselves: locusts. Swarms of hopeful prospects have descended on the house to view our rooms. Day after day they come and chirp noisily. Soon hopefully they will have eaten everything and the sounds will quiet down again.

The first of us has already crossed the sea and over the course of the next few weeks the rest of us will follow. Off to our lands of milk and honey.