A really gorgeous apartment just slipped through my fingers. It was advertised on the Facebook Expats group so I got in there pronto. Arranged a viewing for after work tonight. It was perfect - good price, good size, nice location, and the tenancy would start just as my current contract ends. And just as I was about to leave work, I got a text to say it had been taken.
It's ridiculous to be quite so upset about it, but I am. Coming back to my tiny studio, it seemed quite horribly squalid. It isn't really. But it ain't 55 square metres in a lovely old building, with added loveliness and a washing machine.
I think the expression I'm looking for is: massive hairy bollocky bollocks.