First weekend.

I rode the bus for the first time today, and like a true local, I sat on the bottom. Partly (read: totally) because I couldn't work out how to get upstairs. It wasn't until I saw a fat man struggling with part of the bus wall that I soon realised the 'bus wall' was in fact the stairs. Though one had to wonder why the heck he was going up when there were plenty of seats at the bottom and he probably weighed close to 1000 pounds.

A rainy day in London today but it knows how to pull it off.

I have a new obsession with London rain. People here barely seem to notice it. Subconsciously, and with that practiced art that can only come from doing something far too much, they pull on their hoods and flex out their umbrellas and continue on. Why should rain stop you moving on with your day as usual?, their demeanour implies. I love it and couldn't care less that its raining as long as its still London. It's still bustling and that accent still rings loud and true. There is something incandescently exciting about this place.

I spent last night aggravating neighbours at a flat warming for a group of Kiwis, freshly moved into their new abode. And by freshly, I mean freshly. They didn't have cutlery let alone a draw to put it in. No one had unpacked and none of the beds had covers. This made our spontaneous sleepover more than interesting.

Today I spent with a friend who was perpetually trying to convince me to move into her apartment. Something the Kiwi flat is also working to do. My decision deadline is today and I'm torn!

On the up side, I can hear English revellers cheering at the football match and at 4.30, the lights are already on at the tube station across from me.

I'm pretty sure, above the heavy dark clouds and dense rain, behind the hazy atmosphere and overcast sky, the hidden sun has set.