Back in London...

So after our ‘adventures’ in the apple business, we sulked back to London with the strong stink of defeat hanging in the air.
Given the money situation that was tighter than – well very tight, we decided to split up and stay with people we knew rather than having to fork out for a hostel. So whilst Kylie went and stayed in Shepherds Bush with the girls she’d met on her Contikki tour – sleeping on an air mattress between their beds, I went and stayed with a good friend – of a good friend – of mine. I arrived at the train station and shuddered as the wind found the gap between my neck and shirt collar. So I stepped away from the extractor fan outlet and felt a bit warmer. Peering down the gloomy station I didn’t see a face I recognised, so sought shelter in the three-walled waiting room on the platform.

After a little while a vaguely familiar face popped in, the ticket collector from the train, but behind him was the person I was waiting for. ‘Hey Donald’, I said, ‘Er, it’s Duncan actually but hi!’ Ok it wasn’t that radical but it was still rather a big leap of faith in the nature of having met someone a few times – more so for he than I. But little did he know – muhaha!

But he happily took me to his home and tah-dah-ed at the lounge I was to call my salvation for the next few nights. I was just relieved to find a warm dry house and having friends in your bedroom watching telly with you at night isn’t so bad. There was a rather cloudy experience from one night – I had the meanest leanest budget such that going out was a ridiculous thought – drinking, what’s that?! Not a chance, so there I was, spending more time in the house than any of the others who actually lived there. Not that I snuffled through their knicker draws, but I did feel awkward saying every night ‘Nah, I think I’ll just have a quiet one tonight.’ So I had gotten to sleep at around midnight on a week-night when somewhere mid-dream the door swung open and the light flicked on. It was the chef guy ‘Fittim’ or something. Rather surprised to find me there after meeting me the day before, he smiled and asked politely as if he had an extra orange ‘Would you like a line?’ In my naivity or perhaps stutter at the easy way in which this was presented I said ‘What?’ to which he repeated ‘A line, would you like a line?’ ‘Oh, no, no thank you’ and he smiled and went back out the room as if he was never there. I blinked in the dark darkness that the light had left, shook my head and went back to sleep. So besides these little fun escapades, it was okay – although a very trying week – going on the hunt every day for some sort of job – not entirely sure which one to aim for but knowing it would be a good idea to have one. I’d even walk in the rain to the tube station further away because it was cheaper than the closer one as it was a zone closer to the centre. Yip I know poverty J

Anyway, so decided to try temping to get some money in whilst I fed my little whims of being a traveller or something. Given my receptionist experience through the vet while I was studying I should be able to get something fairly quickly – and I did. A two-week stint at a happy little laid back community centre in London, right on the edge of the Thames. This meant the cold weather at the beginning of Spring was emphasised by water rushing and crashing around. I wasn’t convinced that London actually got a summer, and this wasn’t helping. But it was quite a prime location I was told – I didn’t care much, I did care more about the fact that they owned the whole building so we got discounts in the awesome deli next door. So I could afford a smoked salmon baguette, but it was still hard ok! But it did mean I started at £8 an hour, paid weekly, and had the ‘letter from an employer’ saying I was sane enough to be trusted with a bank account. So I went about getting a bit more integrated into my new little area and set about looking for somewhere to live...