I Think I’ve Finally Settled In London For The First Time Since I Arrived.
Well guys I’ve finally settled in London. After 6 months of moving about from Airbnb’s, hostels and crappy Spare Room shares, I’ve got a place that I can call home.
I’m proud that I continued running during my first few months here. It was unsettling moving from place-to-place almost every week but I’ve persevered with it and I’m now almost back to full fitness again.
My weight is down to 203lbs which is 6lbs less than the start of the year. I’ve managed over 100 miles for every month of 2014 and I’ve even ran more than I did at this point last year. Impressive given the move! I’m on 157 miles for July and there’s still 10 days to go.
This is gonna be my best month ever.
Here is a quick recap of the high and low points of my first 6 months in London.
The high points of my first 6 months
- Staying in the hostel in Greenwich and running half marathons around the Park before heading out to job interviews. That was strangely fun.
- Running along the seaside in Brighton whilst watching a thunderstorm develop over the Channel. That was quite sexy.
- Completing my first 18 miler in Tottenham before heading down to St James Park to harass the squirrels. It proved I could still complete the longer runs.
- Playing table football with the guys I worked with in Brixton and having a laugh after work on a Friday.
- Running through the North Downs in the first part of the 100k to Brighton. Beautiful. Pity the rest of the run wasn’t as fun!
- Reaching the fundraising target for the book. You’ve inspired me on with your kindness over the past few months and I won’t let you down.
- Running to Essex for the first time whilst I stayed in Walthamstow, I thought it was cool just breaking out of the urban sprawl of London to see some countryside.
The low points of my first 6 months.
- Staying in the hostel and drinking pints at night to sleep because of the awful fucking noise. That was a nightmare. There was one Australian bint who wouldn’t stop gloating about how she was going to Paris in 3 days. 2 days. Tomorrow. I sat there each night thinking “Couldn’t you just fuck off already love and annoy some French people?”. The worst bit about traveling is that you have to meet other travellers.
- Coming into work one morning to find that our office had been repossessed. I didn’t have much money saved and was worried I wasn’t gonna get paid. Fortunately I did get paid otherwise I’d have had to resort to yanking off drunken Scotchmen outside the KFC in Piccadilly for Highland toffee.
- Setting off the burglar alarm on my first run in Sydenham and waking up everyone in the house. Embarrassing at the time. But now I’m glad I fucking did it. Cunts. I apologised too much to them. I hope they drown in their own sense of self-satisfaction. Motherfuck! Motherfucking! Motherfucking whorebags!
- The entire, awful month in Sydenham was really fucking miserable. It was that shit that I opted to live in a fucking hostel again instead of risking living with WANKERS! I resorted to prayer each night and I’m an atheist.
- The first night in London. No job lined up. Only one week of accommodation. Living in a strange place with strange people. What the fuck was I doing with my life? Why had it come to this?
Then on my 2nd day in London I was at Aldgate East tube station and saw a Polish girl selling sandwiches for £1.40 at 7:30am in the morning. It gave me a taste of freedom.
There was a world outside and I had to go out and fucking get it.