Room 3

Getting settled into my new digs here over the Little Apple. If you look at the picture of the building, below, mine is the second little dormer window from the left. Here’s a picture of the room. It’s irregularly shaped, as you might expect in a U-shaped building. One wall is curved, and one is oddly angled, so that the room is neither rectangular nor pie-shaped, unless perhaps you assigned a blind person to cut the pie.

The bedbugs having been dispensed with (temporarily, my odd neighbor assures me, unless they seal all the walls in the building – he’ll deliver a lecture on the subject without the slightest encouragement) I have relaxed into a routine. I’m usually awake by seven, and on some mornings well before 6. Tea comes first, of course, some exercise (I don’t walk as far in a day as when I was looking for a place, so the plantar fasciitis that’s plagued me the last 6 months with extreme discomfort has backed off enough that I can at least do hindu squats now). My diet is limited to things that can keep on the shelf in my wardrobe for a couple of days, but as that includes bread, cheeses of various kinds, instant oatmeal, fruit (fresh and tinned), yogurt, cereal bars, and single cream (that’s half and half to you Yank-types) that’s been heated to within an inch of its life in order to keep better, I have a reasonably varied diet, and I have yet to become bored with it. If I want something more perishable, Tesco is a ten-minute walk away. If I need to heat up a can of soup there’s a stove down the hall, but so far I’ve been happy to spread half a wholemeal roll with Cambozola and pop the top on a carton of raspberry yogurt when dinner rolls round. Having at long last repaired my relationship with food, I only eat what I love, so I love everything I eat. Or is that the other way round?

So breakfast and then the commute to work, which consists of pulling the computer table over to the bedside, my shortest commute to date. I turn to the page in my “Invasion of the Monster Women” notebook (Archie McFee, Seattle – thanks, Mo!) and peruse my task list. I’ve usually done all the damage I can to Aeon and other creative concerns by teatime, when I’m off to the Aby Convenience Store to hook up to the 21st century as I’m doing now. Then home to the work I downloaded here, and on ’til betime, or movie time (Immense gratitude to youngest son Jesse for the widescreen laptop and movies, and thanks to Tesco for 97p DVDs, which aren’t all unwatchable). It isn’t always this bad, but we’re putting together an issue at the moment, so there’s always something that needs doing. In a couple of weeks when that pressure has eased somewhat, I should be able to incorporate some sightseeing into my schedule. I live perhaps half a mile from the Imperial War Museum, and like most government-sponsored attractions in London, it’s free.

So now it’s back to The Little Apple for your editor-at-large. I’m feeling rather at home by this time, having brought a few things with me for familiarity at the expense of luggage space, and having bought a few things to make life easier, such as my micro-mini desk cleverly disguised as a nightstand. I’m happy to be here, pleased with the way life is going, and basically relaxed. I don’t even listen for the patter of infinitesimal feet when I turn out the light. Not really.