The Last Time

Tomorrow night, I will be sleeping in a new bed in a new place. I won’t have the way home that’s become so familiar after going out- the crowded bus, the walk past the kebab shop, the closed storefronts of the Caribbean café, the nail salons and the bakery, the church and the betting shop, the nice but expensive pub (sometimes with revelers still inside, other times in the process of being closed or already with chairs stacked on tables in the darkened room), the boarded-up building with no purpose… the walk over the now-familiar sidewalk tiles, the turns I could probably do in my sleep (and often do in a fair approximation of it).

I’ve had it pretty good, with transport links and flatmates and everything. I’m definitely leaning on the positive with my experiences up to now. While I do regret leaving, I’m also looking forward to the new place, new flatmates and new experiences of stumbling home. Hopefully it won’t be bad. Theoretically, I should have decent night bus connections. Transport in London isn’t always as good as in theory, though.

Also, an amateurish mistake I have to confess to: A lager, a Żubrówka, a glass of wine, a shot of sambuca and some vodka with a mixer result in an absolutely horrific aftertaste for the bus ride back home.

Now, to hit the hay for the last time in this house.

One Response to “The Last Time”

  1. Joonas Says:

    The best of luck to your move. I hope the weather’s better than the sleet we’re getting today.

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