It’s been a month to the day since I flew back to London a day later than I expected. I’m now moved into my room overlooking the southern territory of Stoke Newington or the northern reaches of Newington Green.
Whatever this bit is, it is a Hackney bit, although right across the way on the opposite side of Green Lanes may be Islington. It’s reminiscent of This Isn’t Fucking Dalston, an awesome project that should be replicated frequently along many London streets in an attempt to gain consensus of where neighbourhoods start and end.
This Isn’t Fucking Stokey, anyone?
Well, I’ve moved in and emptied out the storage unit I had rented out for a period of about ten months, paying £72 a month. The storage unit wasn’t very big–something like 4 foot by 4 foot and two feet deep. When I got the storage unit, it seemed like it would have been far more expensive to have shipped items back over the Atlantic to Orlando. And maybe it would have been, had I been able to have gotten back in half the time it actually took me to return (with a significant amount of help, I might add).
Somehow I seem to have received a sort of gypsy curse that has ensured I make costly mistakes throughout my life. This may be counted as one of them, as there were a number of items I could have probably purchased new far cheaper than it cost me to store them. However, there were a few things I was glad to have back again: my dress that was given to me by my witchy coworker when I was sixteen (witchy as in Wiccan–not a slur), my purple shoes I walked six miles in one night of aimless full moon walking, the little apron my mother made, the bag I took with me to Ireland, my Cranks cookbook I got for my birthday last year (thanks, Derry!).
The lesson here, ladies and gentleman, is that it is a costly thing to be sentimental about your belongings. But, as the lovely cabdriver who toted me from the storage place to my new residence, it’s nice to have familiar things around when you’re settling in. It brings with it a sense of continuity.
So, here I am. Trying to continue where I left off, as well as trying to start new things, perhaps ambitious things. I’m (finally) doing a bit of work for a study on people’s expectations for pubs in London. If you live in London and frequent pubs, frequently or infrequently–at least been to one in the past three months–I would be very grateful if you would please fill out the survey I have posted on my Tasty Fever blog: Age and Expectations in the Contemporary London Pub Survey. You can also find the survey here. Your name and e-mail address will be kept confidential, for I am the only one looking at results unless I somehow manage to acquire an assistant, in which case he or she would be then required to swear a blood oath over a pirate’s grave to not divulge any personal details.
I’m sure we could find a pirate’s grave or something close enough in Abney Park.
Toward the end of the month, I’ll have more time to be able to try and reconnect with old friends, as well as possibly meet some new ones who have been wonderful Twitter pals whilst I was away in Florida. Therefore, although it has been a month since I’ve been back in London, it still feels very much like I’ve only just got here, since I still feel like I’m in a transitional state.
Which means…. Welcome drinks are going to be ongoing until further notice. I’ve already had some lovely Welcome drinks with my housemates who have welcomed me into the house, a few of my wonderful coworkers and a few friends. Still, there’s more to come.
So here’s to the continuity, and to the fresh starts.