For reasons I can’t adequately
For reasons I can't adequately explain, I found myself washed over by a wave of nostalgia last night - I suddenly started thinking about the places I've lived since I moved to London (and there've been a few), and the people I've lived with. This may have something to do with a passing comment from someone yesterday about how long they've lived here, which made me realise that next month, I'll have been a Londoner for 12 years, which, as it coincides with the month of my 36th birthday, means I'll have lived here exactly a third of my life. This seems a massively significant proportion of the time I've been around. I've been trying to remember what I was like then - and I really can't. All I can remember is moving my entire life into one room in Wandsworth, and thinking it was all a great adventure. Which it unquestionably has been, one way and another.
But I can't remember a single thing that was important to me, or anything I did except work in those first few months, or who visited me, or who I slept with......
Where's it all gone?