The flat is very large. A bit too large for my intended minimalist chic.
Or, as Edward put it, "It looks like we've been burgled."
The vague feeling of being nobbled continues when I try and connect a TV or phone line.
It turns out that the flat doesn't actually have any TV aeriels or phone ports. Nothing. Just weird sockets on every wall labelled "NTL". There's a package in the kitchen labelled "Welcome to NTL - about what we can offer you" and an invitation to call Eugene Cumberbatch.
With a name like that, how could I say no? Sadly, Eugene is on annual leave for a fortnight. But suggests I try the main NTL Cardiff number. Which rings out.
Instead, I ring NTL Customer Services, who, after 10 minutes on hold ("We value you. We value your call. We value entertainment"), transfer me to the Sales team.
"Sorry sir, but we don't supply NTL to that area."
"But there are boxes on the wall saying NTL and no other way of getting TV in the building...."
"Sir, I'd just like to clarify that NTL does not supply your area. Thank you for your call. *click*"