So, earlier this year I got myself a new job. A London job. I bought my extortionately priced season ticket, embraced being at the station before 7am, and commenced. Friends and family know I’ve never been a London fan, happy to work there / could never live there kind of approach. And *spoiler alert*, now I no longer work there, I pretty much proved myself right. Except I loved working there way more than I thought – I liked the pace, I liked the multitude of options for breakfast (take 2) and lunch, I met some of the best people and explored and adventured more than I would have done if I hadn’t been in the City. The whole work thing is kind of complicated, but it was only when I came to leave that I wished I’d have made the move sooner. I got to enjoy the commute, I developed a taste for Franco Mancas, I liked my lunch hour wandering Bloomsbury, and I will absolutely miss those evenings when I ended up sticking around for something or other and walking back along the South Bank. I thought I’d have a lot more to say on the subject, but I’ve got a ridiculous amount of books to blog about, so I’ll leave it there. But I do miss my friends. And Pret.
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