So many plans...

So little time (and money).

I've been tempted to get back into the time and money sucking hobby that is Warhammer. I wouldn't mind having a few models around to paint as something different, but I don't know how much commitment I could make to building a whole new army.

I've also got to get back into gyming. It's taken a hit over the last few weeks with the move and all. I've also discoved that Kilburn Gaels hurling club train about 2 miles from the flat which would definitely make joining up with them appealing. Of course there's a (Gaelic) football club that trains in Finsbury Park (about 1.5 miles away) too, but that's football and the club is also called Éire Óg so that'd be a bit weird.  We'll see. I'll have to get back into shape and be able to run again before I could go into training anyway.

Which brings me to the last plan, I need to go see a doctor. There's nothing wrong, I just want a check up and I'd like there to be a doctor in this country with my medical records... That's number one on the list at the moment.

The Riots

I get this bad feeling that Holloway might kick off tonight.

I experienced a genuine fear that I haven't felt in a long time on my way home from work. Just at the top of Parkhurst Rd near Holloway Rd, there were a few guys hanging around; mid 20s, black, hoods up. One in particular was very large and had a bandanna covering his face so that you could only see his eyes. When those eyes turned to me, I felt a long, cold chill go down my spine.

Nothing happened there though, and closer to home I found a couple of cops hanging around. That made me feel a lot better. Hopefully this madness will end soon.

One year.

Living in London 369 days.
At the job 364 days.
Was in the old flat for 360 days.

So much and so little has changed in that time.
Hopefully all for the better.

Almost exactly one year after me, my brother is also fleeing the nest for a job somewhere foreign, with no idea how it'll work out, leaving a new girlfriend behind. The parallels are eerie.