Things are different.
Finishing school and exams, going on holiday, starting a job. With the basic ingredients of life having changed, everything else which is still the same in so many ways, is different.
I am still running. Now, instead of a chore I force myself to do, it feels like an escape. I speed up as my feet hurt, when before I would slow down. I am still reading books. Except now it is more like devouring them. I get on the last carriage of the tube so that I can get a seat; if I don't, I'll read standing up. Hours of concentrated absorption into fantasy worlds instead of ten minute snatches as I drift to sleep.
Text messages are a lifeline for a lonely teen who is famished for Facebook (especially when a guy you like broke his phone). With the subtle change of being locked off the internet for over eight hours a day, typing into the wee hours no longer feels extravagant.
Instead of staring at a blank word document or lined sheet of paper, I notice little things I would love to write down as I input endless data into spreadsheets. The man looking out of the window, dabbing his eyes with a tissue (he just came back from holiday, does he miss it?). The bored person who is taking personality quizzes on the BBC website (about the only interesting unblocked website).
But, as I have said, it's all still sort of the same, isn't it? Apart from the basic changes in my routine I'm still waking, eating, travelling, working, eating, working, travelling, resting.
I only bought two new shirts for work, about a month before I started - as I have already documented. I won't bore you with the whats, whys and wherefores of how two weeks in I have still bought nothing new. But somehow, with a couple of shirts and a pair of trousers (rolled up twice for leg length adjustments) and black pumps on loan, I have got through it without yet wearing the same outfit twice.
It really does seem that with a couple of basic ingredients altered, only slightly, everything becomes completely different.