10th September- confirmation of (thus far improbable seeming) employment, 21st September- start date... ten days to look for a house and move. So I began my search at google- the first point of information, and after my potential participation in Internet accommodation scams, I finally decided that estate agencies are the way to go... and by the 19th I had the perfect apartment (which is where I stay now). What makes it so perfect you may ask, after all it is in zone 3 of London and clearly not as savvy as what zone one Londoners boast of their places. It does take me 35 minutes on the tube and 5 minutes on the bus to reach central London... and I do have to clean the place myself. BUT, walk out of that apartment... take that bus, and reach the tube station and just round the corner you'll find a small shop that serves the best waffles in the country (better than covent garden ones by the way). That, ladies and gentlemen, is what makes the place so perfect. A perfect warm waffle with thick chocolate smeared on its surface and loaded with fresh sliced strawberries- you know life cannot get better than this.
It was a year ago that I discovered the joy of waffles at the Tocil kitchen: I'm drawn out of my room and to the kitchen thanks to this amazing sweet warm aroma emanating from the kitchen. The culprit- Omer Ali- conveniently standing in front of the toaster removing these delicious smelling but plain waffles and loading them onto a plate. The love began at first bite and has been going steady since.
And now at this tiny Belgian waffles shop, waffles get a whole new meaning.... with their marshmallow, nuts, sprinkles, fruit, chocolate, jam, ice-cream, and so many other awesome toppings. Even though there are no chairs or tables so you have to keep the disposable plates on the trash bin's granite top.... its all so worth it down to the last bite.
And THAt is why my place is perfect :) So there Zone one-ers!!!!

The same old familiar feeling is back again... I really wish there was a name for it, because it's happened so often now and I have no idea what to call it. If there was a word or a phrase fro it it would probably be a synonym of 'life moving on'. The warwick year is coming to an end, and people that were thus far together in one place, are very soon going to dispersed in all corners of the world (which is actually a strange expression given that the earth is round...). When I first landed in England, got the keys to what was going to my room for the year and I opened my first suitcase, I felt alone- homesick, I missed everything that was not with me here. And now when I am shutting off my suitcases, once again I get that same feeling. Only this time the difference is that I'm staying on while others are leaving. Its a strange feeling, because you reminisce about things that you'd hardly heeded when they they were for real, and you miss experiences that you probably vehemently disliked (like walking from tesco to heronbank!), and most of all you miss the people that made it all part of your life. But then as a wise man said last night (Shivi)... "life is long enough for you to meet these people again.. and you most probably will". So well, Amen to that, and I'm leaving for the Duck now.

We officially get kicked out of campus accommodation on the 12th of September. As rationality would dictate, I am spending hours at end house hunting (or in my case, room hunting thanks to property prices in London). But this wasn't the case two days ago. Because two days ago I seemed to have found the perfect place- with the perfect rent. It seemed that I was the only lucky soul on earth to have got it all. Then I found another prefect place, and then another,and then another. This was insane. I knew someone was watching over me. Little did I know, I was in the middle of a potential internet scam as a potential victim. I like to believe it was my special sensibilities that it didn't take me long to figure out these were all fairy-tale apartments that never existed. The series of events that led to this rather intelligent conclusion would just take too much space, time and effort to explain here ( plus they would uncover some of my own embarrassing unthinkingness as well). Lets just say, I could've been robbed of my (very very little) money.
While I was lucky, some others haven't been so, and BBC just yesterday devoted some time letting us know of those other unfortunate souls who as a matter of fact did get cheated.
Sadly, what is also true is that a lot of these 'victims' end up being students who barely have anything to begin with.
I hardly know whether to blame the internet, the people of this world, or London ( after all I have been robbed of a handbag in London as well, but that's another story), but the fact is- WE NEED TO BE ON OUR TOES ALL THE FREAKING TIME... and it is not fun!!!