I had such grand plans for my final days in London. But unfortunately I fell victim to the siren song of responsibility, and spent those final few days packing, wrapping up things at university, etc. It was boring, but also an excellent way of keeping busy/being distracted, and helped to avoid thinking of what I was actually going through.

I'd planned to redo some things I'd enjoyed the most: St. Paul's, Greenwich, visit my first home here... But then it sort of dawned on me that returning to these places wouldn't really add anything to my memories of them, and might actually make me rather sad, so I skipped it. I was commended earlier in the week for how much of London I'd really seen and done (far more than I ever got around to reporting on this blog) and that there wasn't really much more for me to be exposed to.

On my last full day, I ran some errands in the centre of town and then Huw and I easily found a restaurant I wanted to eat at that I neither knew the name or location of.... If that doesn't exhibit ownership of a city I don't know what does! She is mine, I have taken her in and breathed her out. What else is there to say?

That night I had a heartbreaking goodbye with the best friend on Waterloo Bridge and then walked home. I sat for a long time alone at Trafalgar Square; it was breezy and the fountain water kept sprinkling on my face. Baptism complete, I slowly meandered home, got into bed, and cried and cried.