post-ironic quotation marks

Slightly neurotic (but cute!) singleton looking for adventure, finical stability, and some delusion of meaning. With much thought in the topic of sincerity and the occasional film review.

Friday, January 06, 2006

Our hero finds a place to stay

Transportation in this city is deceptive. Everything runs on time, or close enough to it (no more waiting for the T, only to have it late and crammed to the gills so much that it is impossible to get on), but it just takes longer for me to get anywhere. Today, I had to go from Bayswater back to Hackney and back again with all my stuff. I had anticipated it to take an hour and a half, a half-hour to get there, a half-hour to pack up all my stuff, find a taxi, and then twenty or so minutes to get come back to my new home.

Nope. Perhaps it was because I was walking in my awesome, yet impossible knee high boots, which renders me slower than a snail? I think so. I got back here a little after four thirty.

Dammit. In the past summer, I've managed to forget how to walk in heels. I, the girl who has traversed across Boston (from Government Center to Audoban Circle) in an awesome pair of slingbacks, and regulary walked the three miles from Boston Common cinema (not its real name, but what its really called) back to BU in pretty T-straps, can no longer comfortably walk distances in anything but flats. Aw, I need to practise. And that I shall. Tomorrow, when I explore this awesome awesome area (oooh, shops, oooh, pubs, ooooh, a park!).

So, this new place is different. Then again, I am standard upper middle class, and this is soooooo not. I love it. It's filled with people who are from all over the world, who work at different things. I quite like it.


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