Washed

What has almost been two months since my last entry I am, to say the least, feeling extremely rusty. Much has happened since the turn of the decade. I hope to fill in those events and provide some back blogging. I have since then, returned back London, almost apprehensively. Torn emotionally between wanting my Visa to be rejected and yet still yearning for it to be approved. The outcome as you may have guessed is approval and entitlements to remain in the UK until 2013.

Arriving back in London prompted spates of idle contemplation. "Why am I back here?". "Sydney, is awesome!". "I don't remember my room being so small". "God I missed this (English) weather. They say it takes a moment to get over the first trip back to the home country. Things feel more disconnected, the paltry group of Londoners remain and walking down Regent St still stirs the feeling of excitement first felt almost 2 years ago. They anticipation of being in a new country, the only difference now, I don't have to sleep on somebody's couch and sit through countless interviews.

So here marks the beginning of the second UK stint. After much protest my jeans have finally been washed, washed, 3 years after. Symbolic perhaps?