It's a bit overwhelming. To be in a different place, amongst different people, in a different time zone, in a different room. To be living out of suitcases, to be worrying because your kitchen doesn't have a microwave, to be buying groceries that can be used only for 3 days and trying to gobble them down so you don't waste them, to be walking around streets looking for a duvet. It makes you realise how much you take for granted. It's a great feeling.
So in the 40-ish hours that this adventure began, I've managed to:
I feel rather gown up. I think I'm going to enjoy this.- overturn my trolley with it's overweight suitcases (stupid carpet)
- run through the airport like crazy so I wouldn't miss my flight
- watch an inflight movie that I'd been dying to see
- watch the gentleman next to me being put on an oxygen mask because he drank too much
- have two pillowless nights (NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF A PILLOW)
- jam a telephone with a 50p coin
- lug suitcases all over the place
- sneakily procure a nice chair
- do a fair amount of shopping (some of which involved talking to a machine. Efficient, cool, and kind of creepy.)
- make very awful food, and
- meet two wonderful flatmates
Here are pictures of my room and kitchen for those who care. Ignore the mess.
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