I'm still here.

I just went for a walk, it's what I usually do when that restless feeling creeps in from the edges. Dusk is usually the best time to take a stroll around a town as it's the time when people put their lights on but haven't closed their curtains yet.

Yes, it's time to confess; I like to look through other peoples windows.

Not in a weird way, unless ambling past and regarding other peoples interior furnishings and choice of wall art is weird. OK, maybe it is.

Then there's the empty streets, the cool air and the awe inspiring skies...
Except this is South London. The streets are not empty instead other uncommunicative and fearful souls make their way through the shadows between the pools of yellow sodium light dodging neglected hedges and the omnipresent dog poop and most definitely NOT making eye contact with anyone. The cool air is not that cool and carries a heavy scent of drains, distant burning tyres and jerk chicken. I'm missing Wales a lot at the moment.

Plans are hung up on one detail, I still haven't managed to find someone to buy my car, it looks as though I'm here until it sells. Today I gave it a hand wash and wax before taking some photos in the somewhat salubrious setting of Sainsburys car park.

Last Thursday morning I went for a jog around the local park and during the second lap my attention was distracted from the path ahead by a PE class from my former high school and I twisted my foot and ankle in a hole. A local alcoholic saw the whole thing happen from his bench and told me that the foot bent around quite unnaturally. I thought of posting a picture of my bruised and swollen foot, but instead here's the offending hole.

 No, the fried chicken box was not there when I had the accident, the scene is just how i found it.
My ankle is on the mend and hopefully the car will sell soon, then I'm on my way. Though I can't help feeling that in some ways the journey has already started.