Relocation, Relocation, Relocation

I am standing outside the door of my aunt’s house, and I cannot get in. This, of course, is completely my own fault.

It is my second night in London, and I’ve already managed to lock myself out.

It is nearly midnight and I have remembered I need to put the bin out. I am house sitting, there’s no one else home. Up to this I had been draped across the couch and watching telly. Outside was cold. And the house was decidedly not, with me only wearing a t-shirt and pair of tracksuit bottoms

I opened the door and said to myself, “Feck. I don’t want to let the heat out”.

Famous last words.

Less than 20 seconds later, the bin is on the stoop, and I am desperately pawing at the front door My grip on the handle becomes vicious as I push and pull at it. I end up just standing there, listening to the muffled sound of the telly and cursing myself as I remembered my phone - left lying on the couch.

It’s safe to say I am a little bit embarrassed.

I had little choice but to own it, and hope for the best maybe one of the neighbours had a spare key before I froze my arse off.

The neighbour to the right had a light on. So, I decided to hedge my bets with him. Thankfully, he let me in.

I ended up spending the night in his spare room.

There’s a lot to be said for the kindness of strangers. Especially in a pandemic.

That was almost eight months ago now.

Some things have changed since then. I live in a flat in South-East London, and after a brief stint in a pub, I work in advertising. It’s an interesting job, and oh so close to what I’d like to be doing (stringing sentences together for a living).

I’ve also grown to hate and love London in a close to equal measure.

London is beautiful and vibrant and constantly heaving with things to do and see.

But it’s also lonely and isolating at times. Everyone is busy and if they’re set in their ways, not inclined to broaden their social circle.

Sometimes you walk around Brixton or Camden, or somewhere else you think is cool as a teenager and feel on top of the world.

Other weekends, when I’ve no plans and I’m left to my own devices, I walk by groups of friends drinking outside pubs or in parks and feel like a slowly evaporating puddle, struggling to survive in the summer heat

People say Londoners are rude, and I don’t think that’s true. At least they’ve never been rude to me. I’ve gotten myself lost countless times since I got off the plane and decided to stay here for a while and I couldn’t tell you the number of times people have offered me help and directions unprompted.

However, Londoners do keep you at a healthy distance. And that has made things difficult for me in the friend department.

I had three friends here before I moved over. That number has not yet increased.

But that’s not to say I think it will stay that way for all my time here. I’ve tried to be proactive and join sports teams at work and take up new hobbies. I also say yes to any drinks or coffee invites I might ever receive.

I don’t know how long I’m going to stay here, a few more months, or a few more years. But one thing I do know is that I’ll be sure to make the most of it.