I got to LSE on a sunny London morning. Did not get much sleep in Paris, though… I was too busy trying to get out of the residence halls, and making sure my things were with someone who could take care of them (merci à toi le champion JJ… ). In the Eurostar I found Delia, who was going over there with her boyfriend. They were taking advantage of a proper vacation time; I was heading to another school to work my bum off… (I mean… once you pop, you can’t stop).
I got to London with a piece of luggage in hand, and two in my back: A backpack with my laptop and some books, and the camera backpack.
This was what I saw from bus 341 while crossing Waterloo Bridge:
I’d been there before. These streets vaguely remember me. As a child, as a man coming into being. As someone who searches to open the mind.
The residence hall was ok.
There I saw Marion, who guided me around. The next day (Sunday 1st) she took me to the campus.
I kind of miss our walks in the mornings; I used to bother her so much that she would get all upset and stuff… French style: “Tais toi!!!”.
The next day, we had our introductory day at LSE. There, I would get my first taste of good, lovely Birtish humour.