I love my friends and my classes and my professors and getting to see Danes on weekends and all the things that come with senior year at Geneseo...
But I miss Kingston. I miss classes and I miss Ian and I miss the steel-grey-and-charcoal sky and I miss the long walk from Berrylands into Surbiton and then Kingston and I miss the pubs (oh boy howdy, do I miss the pubs) and the proximity to London Proper.
It rained today. Not just sprinkles and not even just a thunderstorm, but a proper, all-out downpour. The kind that not even my umbrella could save me from. It started and then stopped and then started up again out of nowhere and just felt really, properly English. Danes texted me earlier, before the heavens opened up, with: "Buffalo feels like London today: it is really foggy, and it just started raining a bit."
I don't know if I wrote about it here (I must've done, but I just went through a couple months and couldn't find it), but one day, I walked into Surbiton to do something and I took Mr. H's giant golf umbrella (sort of like the one Mycroft uses, but not quite); lucky that I did, because it just started pouring down as I came back. Wind-whipping, jeans-sticking hard rain and, about 10 minutes from home, it became useless to keep the umbrella open. So I closed it, and enjoyed getting soaked to the bone with Spectrum in my ears and a giant grin on my face. These are the things I remember.
It's getting hard to remember. Pictures, blog posts, writing, my journal--they all help, but like anything in memory, there comes a time when you think to yourself, "do I actually remember that, or am I remembering the sketch of the situation and making things up to fill in the gaps?"
I don't know if anyone still reads this blog; not many of you did in the first place. Maybe I'll just keep it for myself. Save my wrist the cramp that comes from writing too much in my journal.
