It's those tricky undersides, they can be a real dirt trap

Today me and Marisa both woke up at the same time, with the same thought in our minds... We have to clean this place. Last night we packed up all our bits at Ben's apartment, and wheeled them down the road to the Moby's flat after Vinyl Ritchie moved out. Then Kenny lent us his car keys so we could do a second run and get all the other bits and pieces we'd managed to accumulate in 3 weeks of island living. Luckily he'd never experienced my driving, so hopefully we can blame the huge scrape down the side of the car on someone else. I told him my parking was shite anyway, so it's his own fault.

By the soft glow of the sulfur light on the street outside, the Moby's apartment didn't look too bad. By the light of day, the place seemed to look like it had been designed by HR Giger, and not in a good way. We swept and mopped the whole place 3 times, and still it feels dirty in bare feet. We went through the entire place, and threw away anything that wasn't ours or Emma's (The other girl that's staying here for a week). By the time we got to cleaning our room, we thought we'd managed to get the worst of it over and done with, but when we moved the rug, there was quite a bit more sand than can be had in the Sahara desert. We've done what we can for now, tomorrow we're going to the DIY shop, to buy lots of things to try and make it look a bit less like the 9th layer of Hell.