bits and pieces

What’s worse? Running out of TP or running out of food? This last week has been a comical experiment in stretching 10 pounds over as long as possible. I have stopped buying bread, butter, milk, yogurt; I have put a new toothbrush on hold, similarly conditioner, shoes (all of my shoes have flappy holes! Homeless or what!) and of course, TP. The bank account has money in it as of 5 hours ago, if the UK system works, but I’m kind of enjoying the extreme penny-pinching. Have survived off the flatmate’s leftovers so far; part of me is tempted to try and continue until he throws me out.
A cute homeless guy had an oily chip off me yesterday. He was trying to convince me and companions that we were Christians, we just didn’t know it. All in a cute Irish (?) accent and a twinkle in his grubby face. Oh, and now I can truthfully say that every social strata of British society, ranging from a decorated Knight to a Rough Sleeper has asked me why Indians can speak English.
Said goodbye to the studio yesterday. No reason to go there anymore – start new work on Monday. Will soon say goodbye to a big part of my present way of life in London. Bastions have fallen, one by one. Friends, places, soulmates. Now I’m left, and a whole new adventure. Durga durga.
I have 2 flats at my disposal this weekend, what riches! Except for the fact that they are as far away from each other as possible while being equidistant from Aldwych, it’s a dream. Except, I don’t plan to stay home much. Last weekend of freedom from the rat-race, the organised workplace, the grind, must be spent consolidating some London vellaness. I dunno, maybe the quest to live, relive and revisit happy times over the last year is a kind of rat race in itself. In which case, I win.