Times they are a changin’

the great cattle commute

When I turned 25 things simply stopped. Not in a bad way. But nothing of note happened for a period of about four years.

I ditched The Wrong Boy, landed a good job and did all the normal things that a twentysomething single London girl is expected to do (including keeping a blog about them).

I changed flats and flatmates a few times, a few friends and lovers came and went. But really in the course of that four years, there wasn’t a lot to report.

Then, a month before my 30th birthday, a whirlwind of change began. And it hasn’t really stopped since.

I’m so used to change now that I feel almost twitchy when there isn’t something on the horizon.  I don’t even notice the minor changes anymore… but I do sometimes see the signs.

Last night my best friend was flitting between two birthday parties and a flat viewing in central London. Meanwhile I had a swim in the sea and came home to assemble my telescope (not a euphemism).

That was until I got to the bit where I had to “slide the sleeve end of the cable over the nipple on the end of the worm gear”. At that point I wished I had a party to go to, gave up and went to bed.

Coming home from work tonight we spent about 20 minutes bumper to bumper with a herd of cows using the road to get to the milking shed.

I’ve sat in traffic in cars and on buses and sat in darkness on the Tube countless times during various city journeys. Commuter cattle beat the boredom hands down 🙂