London: Still South, Still House Hunting but now its Autumn

Autumn is turning to winter - coats are on and they get thicker each day, whilst the trees shed their orange, dying leaves over the streets. These leaves are then blown into large piles in the middle of bleak parks or on the sides of the streets whilst people load themselves on to warm buses. It is now dark by five pm.

There is a romance in the lights that are on in shop windows, and the buses that pass by my window of the room that I am still temporarily staying in until I find a new home. I spend many hours online looking for rooms, or walking the streets in search of adverts in cafes. I am tired of this, and long for a place to set up a desk and place my books into bookshelves. A home.

As winter sets in, the frequency of national events grows. It has been Fireworks night recently, when Guy Fawkes is repeatedly burnt all over the country (poor man). It was Halloween not long before, and soon i will be Christmas.

On 5th November, I walked the streets of Brockley, rising over hills and valleys in the London suburb, towards Chucky's house, who had offered me dinner. The old streets were surrounded by fireworks which just about made it as high as the hills and the sky constantly lit up, shuddered and boomed. It felt like World War Two.