It’s the most beautiful time of year in London when the trees turn gold and shed and men go to work in long black coats with the collars turned up. Tourists dress as though we are in Siberia and street corners smell of caramelised nuts in paper ones. The gloom and dark evening crave a need for warmth, pumpkin lattes and exploring shadowy corners no summer has left.

It has been long since I have written but not much has changed. I still eat Tesco sandwiches on concert benches by the Thames and decamp to Starbucks to work on my online shop that has not sold a single thing since April. That was a second hand pair of leggings. The ‘charity’ landlord are still hinting for somewhere for me to live where I can pee without the weird neighbours banging or stamping up the stairs behind my bum. But life in Brackenbury is mellowing more. My graduation is in a few months. I am not going as it feels like a second wedding without a husband. I haven’t declined in the hope they are left calling out my name, holding up events as one last mistake I made as the thickest student they ever have

 

What can an MA in English Literature get me as a 33 year old who has never had full time employment and has a CV showing hula hooping and two years of illness selling junk on eBay?

Anyone want to employ me?

I just want to live on a houseboat. I want nothing more to live on a houseboat….and have somewhere to do aerial hoop.

Any takers on magically transforming my life please get in touch because living in a free West End vintage flat is safe and the houses look pretty but, boy, is life snobby and dull here. I like unicorns. The neighbourhood like property investment and Mazdas. You get my drift?

 

I

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