Hello again London

I never really felt that bothered about working somewhere that is actually called the 'Isle of Dogs'. I guess I tried not to think about it too much for those 11 months.

A place that has the largest supermarket you could ever imagine, where it was not rare to be in a queue with all of the following:
a mother (in a tracksuit) buying disposable nappies in hay bale-like quantities whilst trying to stop her three under three from ransacking the chocolate bar display;
a man buying a six pack of home-brand lager, 2x 2l of cider and a copy of 'News of the World';
a 21 year old girl with hula-hoop sized earrings, a scrunchie and a mobile stuck to her ear screeching 'I ain't bovvered in'nit' over and over again.

But now that is all just a distant memory.

It is good to be back in your arms London. With your curly alleyways, and purring streets; your churches, cathedrals and 200 year old pubs. It's that morning bus ride to work where I look up from my book and see the Houses of Parliament across the Thames; and that walk across the bridge for a post-work beer in the early evening sun.