mama if that’s moving up then I’m…
I’m sitting in a massive bedroom - massive, that is, compared to the size of my old one - surrounded by bin bags and boxes full of my stuff. I don’t really know where to start. My toiletries are unpacked, as are most of my bits and bobs, a few coats, most of my dresses. That sounds like almost everything a person should have, and yet I count 10 more bags of clothes and 5 boxes of books, as well as a pile of shoes, shoes to keep, shoes to store, shoes to sell…
It’s a historically hot day in London, and for the first time in a long time, I have almost no money. Our new fridge is stocked with milk and a canned iced coffee from the corner shop. There is no one else here; she is at work, flatmate 1 is also at work, flatmate 2 is on holiday, and is not accompanying us to our new home. The dread of an incoming several-hundred-pound fee for a deep clean of the old flat hangs over me.
My best friend’s 21st birthday was two days ago, and she celebrated halfway across the world. Before that, in Copenhagen with my mum, I tried to strike up conversation, but it never really stuck. There are a lot of men in my various friends’ lives and very few of them seem to like me.
Nonetheless, it’s a beautiful day, and change is in the air.