c'est la vie

no need to panic, or freak out, but a drug addict (d.a.) frequents the area outside the laundry room downstairs at night.

he's generally harmless, as my fellow residents have testified. gets stoned, and starts thinking that he's in his house, and starts 'cleaning up' the area around him, then falls asleep. or something like that.

however, the idea of there being syringes and needles littered around is not nice. and what if he accidentally, or otherwise, injects someone who's on his or her way to the laundry room?

it's been months now, and almost everyone has seen him, but i hadn't. not till yesterday night. i went downstairs to collect my clothes from the dryer - needed a top that i was going to wear later that night - but froze when i realised he was sitting outside the laundry room, evidently not in a very lucid frame of mind.

it's never really real until you see and experience something for yourself. i'd heard stories about him, but when i finally encountered him, i freaked out a bit. meaning i turned around and took off back into my flat as quickly as i could without running (think very fast power walking). a stream of expletives (not directed towards him) exploding in my mind.

needed to talk to someone about it (my laundry and him, not the expletives). so i burst into the kitchen and fortunately mas - one of only 2 guys in my flat - was there preparing his dinner. now mas, a british asian, is the quietest guy ever, but he's also probably one of the nicest guys ever. he listened (quietly but sympathetically) to me blubbering about my laundry and the d.a., then offered to come with me downstairs to get my laundry.

still a tad too shaken to go down again just yet, i told mas that i'd come back and ask for his 'protection' if the d.a. hadn't left 30 minutes later.

30 minutes later, i followed mas out of our flat downstairs, where the d.a. was still 'cleaning house'. frankly, i was still freaking out, but mas was completely calm, we just walked past the d.a. who said "y'alright? just cleaning up" in an out-of-place friendly voice (me to myself: omg omg omg)and went into the laundry room. i collected my stuff and we walked past the d.a., who was not oblivious to us, but he didn't do or say anything.

thank goodness for mas.

i guess that's london for you. gosh what will happen when i actually move out of student accommodation next year?