life is more different than even i imagined working full-time in london. by that i mean, everything is different.
travelling is a whole different species. a hot, crowded, rush to the last carriage if you want any hope of a seat, rush-hour species. you see the same guy in the same carriage with the same piercing blue eyes twice, because now your travelling is regular.
the weather is different. i am permanently cold at my desk by the air-con, and shivering in the streets at lunch-time in the lashing rain with my broken but easy to carry umbrella. the weather forecast becomes all important.
90% of my wardrobe looks at me, neglected and forlorn. after a couple of weeks of heavy wear as i do little more than lazing around, my casual clothes slump sadly. the previously insignificant holes in my cardigans and fallen hems now scream for a needle and thread. black ballerinas replace bronze birkenstocks.
even boredom is different. now it is about twiddling thumbs, frequent visits to the water machine and toilet. i have progressed in my current book by hundreds of pages. what can i say; the internet is blocked.
long, long hours. i work throughout, interesting work, not too hard nor too easy nor too titillating. but work which consumes time. as hours slip through my fingers, i find only room enough for short pauses. i find myself making lists, lists, more lists, to tick off as soon as i get a chance to breath a full, long breathe. i have probably spent enough time making to-do lists to have completed ten lists.
eating habits, drinking habits, walking habits, exercising habits, sleeping habits, tv watching habits. none of them have escaped unscathed.
i am two days in. 23 to go (including 1.93 days of entitlement to paid holiday).