DeFLATion

Followers may have begun to wonder about the results of my personally-announced flat move.

The reason I've delayed writing about the outcome is that I'm still wondering about it myself.

I have moved to a one-bedroom flat in XIII district. In doing so, I have saved 27% on my main rental costs (the rent plus Hungary's ubiquitous 'common charge').

The flat is only 16% smaller than my previous flat. And whereas my last was described as two-room (living room and bedroom), this flat effectively has three. The wide access hall, fitted with table and chairs, becomes a dining room of reasonable size.

There are windows at either end of the flat, making it bright and airy. And most of the doors are panelled with light-transmitting glass.

There is also a private balcony – or as the estate agent preferred 'terrace with roof' – measuring 13 x 4 feet, and displaying several pot plants for which I have responsibility.

So why do I feel I don't really like the place?

I guess this is where I have to admit to my secret elitist credentials.

This spot is airy and bright, but it does feel distanced from the architectural beauty, history, heritage and buzz that represents the downtown inner city.

From this flat's rear windows I can view a giant, featureless building of concrete and glass. From the front terrace, three magnificently tall trees only partly obscure the semi-derelict facia of the residential block opposite.

My location is officially in Újlipótváros, an area described as "a popular middle-class/intellectual residential district".

But after one week, I began to think I'd inadvertently located myself to the heart of Angyalföld, an area just to the north, once pointedly noted for not participating in the 1956 anti-Soviet revolution.

(Angyalföld was once an intensely working-class area, where hundreds of engineering and manufacturing industries developed up to the 1980s, with historically cramped and unhygienic living conditions for its thousands of workers. Today's concrete housing estates were built between 1970 and 1985, and much of the industrial activity is replaced by service centres and offices.)

However, I have now examined my local area more thoroughly. And my conclusion is that I've simply picked the wrong place on the wrong street.

Nearby residential Hegedűs Gyula street certainly does justify the middle-class label. And surrounding streets are equally architecturally and environmentally satisfying to my elitist mind.

Yet my present location would still be acceptable if it wasn't for one other, overriding, factor: THE SIZE TWELVE FEET OF THE OVERWEIGHT MAN WHO LIVES WITH HIS FAMILY IN THE FLAT ABOVE.

I have a psychological issue with "neighbour noise". I always have. And there's no escaping it. Despite clear assurances from my new landlady that 'above' was noise-free, I immediately found I was living under a very frequently and heavily trodden ceiling.

So I'm faced with a dilemma – whether or not to move on. I certainly don't look forward to renewing my acquaintance with the local estate agent fraternity. But I have begun to examine the alternative possibilities online.

Moving home is a stressful time. Hopefully, I can resolve this issue. Then PaprikaTown can focus on the real purpose of Budapest: having fun!