The weather is colder now, and walking across Waterloo Bridge today, I thought I was going to get blown off, the wind was so strong. The breeze, buffeted by the currents of the Thames, passes over our heads like an overhead jet plane.

We walk from Waterloo to the Strand, sniffing out student deals and cheaper food, since most food in the city centre tends towards the expensive anyway. At some point I begin to feel like a scavanger, peering at tiny print on plastic menus, seeking the right price. We eventually settle for Knights Templar, which sounds suspicously like a faction in your standard RPG game, but is actually a pleasantly decorated bar with a long and fairly ancient history. We thoroughly explore the richly decorated washroom in the basement and exclaim at the heavy oak cubicle doors.

Some tentative friendships have been formed with a handful of people; names have been exchanged and our stories passed around over the table. For now, it will be enough. I know it is early days yet, and so, I will be patient.

Outside, the sky has turned a peculiar orange. Back home, this would signify an imminent rainstorm. Here, I do not know what it means.

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