Waiting and running

Tomorrow is the closing date for applications for the job. I'm rather excited, even though I know it's decidedly dangerous to get too excited about these sort of things.

I can't help but day dream about life in London again, a life where I bump into chums in the street and people call up and say 'I've got a spare ticket to X, fancy coming along tonight?'

I miss meeting friends for lunch but most of all I miss the seasons of London. Not just the different times of year, but the different times of day.

The white heat of post-work Soho, to the eery silence of early morning Knightsbridge. Lazy lunch times in Hampstead and even the frantic bustle of Picadilly.

These used to be part of my day, I could go and see facinating art, or stare at dinosaurs for free, and walk there and back. Many bizarre adventures to strange parts of London were undertaken with the warming comfort that if it all went wrong I could just walk home.

I once got lost in the city after drinking with a strange mixture of people and had to use the river to navigate. I found it, got on the North side and then bimbled my way home.

To some people that would sound like a nightmare, but to me it's now a fond memory.

I really home I get this job.