move

We're moving house tomorrow. My room is nearly empty and you can see the patches of mould near the windows. Lucky buyer.

We're not going far. The new house is a good deal and has a back garden; luxury, in London.

The only thing I'm really sad to abandon is my oversized bed. My boyfriend is much taller than me and sleeps in a star shape, limbs seeming to multiply in the night.

No internet from tomorrow until Tuesday at least. Not that I was likely to post anyway, as you well know.

espanol

The girl to my left is called Svetlana. She's wearing a tartan skirt, and a different tartan v-neck sleeveless pullover. The girl on my right is Lydia, and is wearing earrings that have 'Oui' written on them. No, that may be a lie; I can only see one. She is also wearing knee socks and I like both of these girls immediately.

We play ice-breaker games that they always make you play in semi-formal situations, only we play them in Spanish. The teacher makes us say a word we know already. The only one I can think of is manteca, so I say it, and she looks amused. It means lard.

Telling a lawyer friend about the classes earlier in the day he is confused by why I'm taking them. You must have a thirst for knowledge, man in his perfect East London accent. When Svetlana asks the same question later I answer honestly something to do in the evenings and she laughs and agrees. She also makes reference to the bars around the college and I'm pretty sure I'm going to make some friends, here.

tired

I've not been to bed before 1am for the past week. Not sure why, really.

Woke up this morning to some news that tweaked that horrible emotional pulley that develops in your throat when you haven't slept enough. Attach any weight and the tears flood out.

Nothing more to say. Just tired and missing certain people so very much.

definitely january

So I've resolved to get more involved. My brain feels like its dying; I do next to no work for this course and my results are very good. That's not intended as a boast, more an indication of just how basic the tasks are.

Spanish classes start on Monday night. I've joined a book group that meets every month and found a couple of free events to attend in the coming weeks. I'm just starting to like London.

I am also going to attempt to eliminate artificial sweeteners from my diet, though probably not until Lent rolls around. That sounds horribly organic and smug. It means giving up Diet Coke and sugar-free squash. I've rather lost my taste for the former.

Related: the gym is busy, even in the dead mid morning hours. Uncomfortable people in clothes meant for gardening stare warily at the machines. Just reminds me of me, aged sixteen. I've been asked two questions about the gym while mostly naked in the changing room this week. Demonstrating how a locker works without a bra on must fit into some fetish category, somewhere.

nye

We're all pretending to be grown up and having a dinner party. As EQ points out, student food (shepherds pie and peas) slopped onto plates is only a dinner party by virtue of the fact that we're all in black tie. I've even got my hair up, braids pinned at the nape of my neck.

He looks so good, stubble and a dinner jacket. After Big Ben chimes we're on the sofa, talking. We talk more when we get home, in bed, my head on his shoulder. I am not good at this, this talking, but fuelled by cheap fizz I do my best.

He looks impossibly better the next morning, dress shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows and pyjama bottoms. We make breakfast for welcome guests and spend the day asleep.

Happy New Year. Thank you for reading.