And in the end ...

          I wrote and mailed fourteen postcards today.
          The last day in London. Better now than never, I guess. Also, the post office had no 54p stamps, so there were three stamps per card (48, 5, and 1p). And they were the lick kind - no sticker stamps here. Brittany helped affix them to the postcards.
          Okay, so it was a little ridiculous.

          Today was spent in Central London, mostly wandering around Charing Cross Road investigating second-hand bookstores. I had a chicken and veg pasty from the Cornwall Pasty Co. (Award Winning!). It was quite delicious.
          I've been avoiding thinking things like "This is the last time I'll pass that rubbish bin" etc. For one, I don't actually feel sad about things like that. For another, empirically, it's woefully sentimental. I'm all for sentiment, but not over mundane things like that. Now, missing Chick Chicken and Doner Kebabs (which is actually called The Kebab House or something along those lines) will be entirely valid.
          It's weird. I wish I felt like it was ending. I wish I felt some twinge of urgency - remember this! imprint these images on your brain! savor these sensations! - but it seems like any other day, and all I really feel is tiredness, to my bones.

          So now, it's time to pack. I've been putting it off, but it's finally unavoidable. I just need to get into the mindset.
          Put on some turbo-happy music to counteract the effects of dismantling my life here, eat a few truffles, and go.


          Oh, on a side note, the public toilet outside my dorm caught fire this morning. No one was in it. There was a large fire truck parked next to it as it smoked. It was fantastically absurd.

          That's all, my darlings. This is my last post from London. Expect one or two more, wrapping up this segment of life, looking at it as a whole, nostalgic and fuzzy. For now, it's too close, too immediate, for me to step back and make grand statements about it.
          I wish that it weren't over.