I've moved to
Zone 6
The commute is longer
But oh my
It is worth it!
The 500 year old barn
That houses a library
A skip, hop, and a jump away
Down the road
The Lido
Complete with swans
A beach
And a walking trail
Three sets of ancient woodland
Will soon become my
Running route
And my bedroom
Inside a 400 year old house
Is picture postcard pretty
And quaint
Yoga on the slightly uneven floorboards
Sunlight through the square window
And room to breathe

The end.

The boxes are nearly all packed
My life once again
Reduced to
Two suitcases
(Just about...)

The shelves and rooms
Seem bare

The space I have called
Home
For the past twelve months
Will soon be
Another place
I once lived
An address to remember
When I fill out forms

Right now it's hard to imagine
Sitting in my room
Staring at it all
Right now
It all seems quite real

And in the morning
Time to say
Goodbye, little flat
Goodbye, kitchen table!
Goodbye, stove!
Goodbye, fireplace!
Goodbye, bathroom!
Goodbye, window seat!
Goodbye, view!
Goodbye, room!

Close the door
And turn the key.

Well, this video pretty much sums it up.

The end.

This is a true story
It happened to me 
In real life 
My friend
A university educated person
Whose parents are both doctors
Told me 
Women cannot be astronauts 
Because they get their period

This. Is. Simply. Not. True.
In June 1963
Valentina Tereshkova
Became the first female 
To launch into space 

A little earlier 
In 1961 
Thirteen women
Known as the Mercury 13
Underwent 
The same training and tests 
As the men who would later become
The first American astronauts
And they passed
And then
Not because they were physically unable
Or intellectually inferior 
But because of 
Institutional bias against women
For being women 
The Mercury 13 
Were dismissed 

In all 
Fifty-six
Women have fought
And trained 
And gone into space
Two of them have 
Commanded the spaceships
And what about their periods?
One astronaut is quoted as saying
"Period in space, just like period on the ground
Don't worry about it."

Women do go into space 
And while they make up just 10% of the people
To hurtle past the atmosphere
The point is 
Women can be, and are, astronauts
The only thing keeping on the ground
Is prejudice and ignorance

The end. 

I have been in a terrible funk
Feeling tired
And lonely
And miserable
And Mum came to the rescue 
Gave me a bit of extra money
So I could treat myself 

I take myself to Brighton
It's only an hour and a bit away from London by train
I had heard it was pretty
And had a hippy vibe
I disembark from the train
No map
No agenda
Just a day of being 

On the way to the waterfront 
I wander into St Paul's Church
You enter through the long cloisters
Inside the church
A man is having a heated conversation 
With the air
Or the spirits around him
He emphasizes each point with a flick of his hand 
Mass is starting in ten minutes
I wonder if they'll let him stay
I walk into a large room beside the chapel
There is a massive fireplace
Guarded by two stone dragons
There is a rich red carpet
The walls are lined with books
There are two comfy looking chairs
A warden comes in and tells me I am in the vestry
And visitors are not allowed
I apologize, I hadn't realized 
But I'm glad I got to see the room
Once I'm back in the foyer 
The warden closes the door
Private 

I arrive at the waterfront 
The beach is covered in pebbles
The water has a lovely light blue tinge
I don't know why, but I had expected it to be brown 
It is so lovely to see the ocean again
On the beach a small group of tourists is skimming stones
They remind me of my love and skimming stones along the river in the summer
My heart aches for him 
There is an art shop right on the beach
They are selling prints
And cards
And beautiful books 
The food shops along the beachfront
Are all closed
It is winter
It is not the season
There is a tiny fishing museum that is open
It takes five minutes to walk through
It feels like a relic 
All shells and fishnets and crabs behind glass
Turning to dust 
A looped video sings sea chanties 

I walk
With no real destination 
And stumble upon the 
Royal Pavilion 
It is like a palace 
The gardens around it
Are beautiful 
Spring flowers are starting to make an appearance
Though the trees are bare
And the grass is mostly gone 
I buy a hot chocolate
And wander around to the museum
It is closed on Mondays 
I don't mind

I walk up to the Lanes
Winding tiny streets filled with shops 
Though no longer the original buildings
The area "gives a flavour of medieval Brighton" 
A shopkeeper tells me 
The council wants to push out the independents
And bring in the High St tenants
More money that way
Of course the stain of commercialism is evident everywhere
Even by the water
The giant concrete monstrosity
That is the Odeon and entertainment complex
How they allowed it! 
It's a shame
The very reason people go there
Being eaten away 

Speaking of eating
I have lunch in a small cafe
Everything is handmade and fresh
Sweet potato soup and an apple, carrot, and ginger juice
The soup, juice, and cafe are all bright orange 
It reminds me of the book Misery Guts
The protagonist is an English boy 
Who is sick of his parents being miserable
So he paints their fish and shop bright orange 
From memory they move to Australia
The land of sunshine and happiness
Did you know that in Australia it is estimated more people
Die by suicide that road related deaths

I walk and walk and walk
I window shop
I wander in and out of stores
And chat to shop keepers
I imagine I am wealthy
And pick all the artworks I would buy
And where they would go in my dream house 

I end the day back at the beachfront 
I walk a little way down the pier
It is tacky and touristy 
I prefer the pebbles
The sky has been grey all day
And it is cold
But it has been the loveliest day 

The end. 

Dear Willesden Green
Our time together
Is coming to an end
My lease is just about up
And soon I'll be moving
To another part of London

But before I go
I wanted to say
Thank you

For pretty little flat
The first place
Where I lived alone
Finally had
As I had always desired
A room of my own
With a window seat
Overlooking the rooftops of London
A space where I felt safe
And free to sing
And play flute
And not worry that anybody was listening
The first place where I had the
Luxury of an entire
Fridge and kitchen
And bathroom to myself
Could put utensils
Wherever I wanted them
Arrange the fridge
As I saw fit
Not worry that a flatmate
Was having thirty minute showers
And making me late

Speaking of showers
Willesden Green
The place where I was
Properly introduced
To the reality
Of living in an old city
Where the plumbing
Is antiquated
And the water pressure
On the third floor
Almost non-existent
Particularly when it's freezing outside
And the water pressure
Is intentionally reduced
To stop the pipes from exploding
And I literally
Had to shower in a bucket

Thank you for my park
Hilly and pretty
No matter the season
With its duck pond
And playground
And rose garden
Close enough for quick 4km runs
Big enough for longer runs

Thank you for the plethora of shops
And the library
Even if it often felt dank
And under-loved
For the internet cafe
Always open and
Staffed by lovely Polish immigrants
Who are always smiling

For your proximity to the city
And wonderfully efficient
Jubilee Line
Which one day was experiencing
"Severe delays"
And still had me home
Fifteen minutes later

For being the first home
In my life
That I was able to leave
And come back to
To find it all my things
Just as I had left them

I'll be sad to pack up my suitcases
And say goodbye
But I'm ready
For the next adventure
To begin.

Wandering around the
Real Food Markets
At Southbank
And eating fresh
And garlicky
Bruschetta
And a falafel wrap
And hot cider
And a chocolate brownie
For dessert
With a lovely
Kindred spirit
And relishing the melting pot of cultures
You
An Australian/Spanish person
Living in London
Eating
Moroccan and Italian and English foods
With a Russian/South African/Australian
Who lives in France
And you think
This is precisely
The life
I wanted to lead

The end

Imagine the mercury
Has risen to 7 degrees Celsius
And it feels practically balmy
You don't even need a scarf
Or a beannie
And it's windy
The kind of fresh strong breeze
That exhilarates
That suggests
Change is in the air
Which way is it blowing?

And despite the wind
And the patchy rain
The streets are incredibly busy

Bustling and jostling
And all the cliches of a crowded city
And you hear an Australian voice say behind you
"God, I don't know how they live like
this!"
And it makes you laugh
And you actually turn around and smile at him
Because we're in London!
One of the oldest cities!
Isn't it wonderful?!

And you ride home on the Tube
And you walk home to your flat
And you think
Here I am.

The end.

Today
A lovely friend
From Sydney
Arrived to live in London
For two years
And we had hot chocolate
And giggled at the stage door
And her excitement at being in London
Reminded me how I felt
Over a year ago
When I first arrived
And she reminded me
That it is okay
to be excited
Wonderful even

And the snow never stopped all day
Ad everything was blanketed in powdery white
And just to watch the snowflakes coming down!
And see the world transformed
Was utterly, deliciously, magical

The end.