There's a Frenchman living at the bottom of my garden

I don't want to talk about the bombings anymore, I'm sick of being paranoid; not about my own safety but of the other people who catch the Tube with me every day. I hate this sitiuation not for making me fear being here, but for making me judge people based simply on what they look like. That's the real sucky bit.

So onto more pleasant things - with the advent of a job, I have moved into my new flat here in Fulham which is a bit of a mini-UN - we have representatives of Australia/Macedonia, Australian/NZ, Sweden/America, Russia, Australia/The Philippines, and the aforementioned Frenchman who lives in the cottage at the bottom of the garden.

The house is a restored 3 story Victorian house in a lovely suburb akin to Grey Lynn - funky but with turn-of-the-century charm, and it allows me to walk along the Thames bank to catch my Tube to work on the days I don't go via the gym. Everything is very convenient, and is only 30 min or so into the centre of town, but with plenty to entertain in this area too.

So job, flat, gym (and hopefully tomorrow a tax number after my special interview) sorted - which means I should be finally all settled. And that should mean that I should be able to begin travelling and that means this blog should become more interesting. One of the flatmates works for Eurostar and may be able to get cheap train tickets to Paris - so perhaps that will be the first trip, and then perhaps Barcelona. Also booking in a trip to Istanbul when Dad comes over here in September.