Moving Pictures

Today I moved to Bromley.  I now have an actual address, and have registered to vote.  It's a shared house but it's still an actual home, as opposed to an AirBnB, which is only one step up from being homeless.  It's been quite a tough three months.  Now I can settle a bit, save some money, and work out a plan. 

This morning as I was packing, I realised I had about a third of a bottle of wine hanging about, so I drank it.  I've never, ever drunk in the morning before so it felt daring and a little bit degenerate.  It was fine and had worn off by the time I handed over my keys.  It will be our secret. 

I had a brief love affair with Croydon in the six weeks I was there.  It was time to move on.  I'll take with me lots of mental images:  the butchers where they only play Bob Marley; the jewellery shop that sells functioning gold dummies; the market that has been setting out stalls since 1276; the slightly feral edge to the town on Friday and Saturday nights; and Boxpark, which is probably a sign of the apocalypse. 

Apparently it is possible to live with uncertainty and insecurity.  It's not fun, but it's possible.  Next week I have an interview for the job I have been doing as a temp the last two months.  Quite a lot rides on that.  If I do not get it I will have to reassess my situation quite sharply.