I’m back! Sort of.

I landed into Heathrow this morning after probably the most turbulent flight I’ve ever been on, which was not helpful considering my Vegas hangover was well and truly in full force. I fidgeted the fuck out of my fidget cube to keep those waves of nausea at bay for essentially most of the flight.

It hadn’t really hit me fully that we’d moved house while I’d been away – not until I was on my way home and I didn’t head towards Camden, but instead continued onwards towards Clapton. Oh E5, it’s good to see you again.

I’m desperately trying to stay awake to keep the jetlag at bay, so I’ve done copious amounts of laundry only to repack my case for my trip down to Devon tomorrow. I’ve also caught up with a few friends and taken advantage of the beautiful weather the city is having at the moment, and next I’m hitting the gym. Don’t say I’m not putting in the effort here.

My room is also looking terribly sparse apart from the boxes which I’ve yet to unpack. I don’t even have a bed – so it’s safe to say I’m in serious need of ordering some furniture.

I feel quite bittersweet about seeing my best friend tomorrow. I’m excited to see her because I’ve been away, but at the same time it’s in the most awful circumstances and I know how much she’ll be hurting. I just hope that I can help as much as possible for the next week whilst things move forward.


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