Stuff about being on buses

Life seems to be taking up all my time (I read this on a postcard in England, and bought it, of course). it feels like I am running slightly behind all the time, and still haven't had time to go to the swimming pool and tan my hide. One day of sun and last night I cycled home in the pouring rain. But it was summer rain!

Today I went to the office that sorts out pensions, to sort out my pension. Naturally, this does not come naturally. In London, I travelled on the 41 bus with my freedom pass, and suddenly it felt like I was time travelling, like that thing they do in movies where someone sits there, old, and suddenly the screen goes foggy and you see them young. And I saw myself travelling on that same bus, which goes between Archway and Crouch End, where I lived and most of my friends lived, as I was then. Young. Strong. Wanting to know everything, try everything, fiercely a (Bavarian) Londoner. Always having half-baked affairs and cool love storiesm buying wholefood bread and drinking sweet liqueurs. Going to gigs, and working right in the heart of where London was happening. And it seemed impossible that I was there with my bloody freedom pass.

Because, just like all my old friends, and like my mother: we are just the same as always.