I would have liked to have been posting to this blog with a greater frequency than never since returning from Ireland, but my internet access has been poor at best.
Today marks two weeks since I moved in with Eleanor, back into my old room. We still see each other about as much as when I didn't live with her, but plans are in the works for a meal together soon. I've been perfecting a pasta sauce recipe of minimal yet all fresh ingredients just for the occaision. Lucky us!
Work has been great, things are falling into place, everyone is doing their jobs and getting along quite well. Bob enters the mix tomorrow. This should be interesting. My commute is a dream - half by train, half by foot. It seems very few people realize the advantage of walking from Victoria to Knightsbridge over taking the tube, and for my own much-enjoyed sollitude I'd quite happily like to see it stay that way.
In harsher news, I'm running out of time. Its less than two months until the flight I have yet to buy my ticket for departs London for Toronto, thus ending my near-two year love affair with this city. At a time like this, I can't help but have my attention drawn to the eerily pessimistic tone of the word 'countdown'.