My flight was uneventful. I watched a few movies, ate two complimentary meals, and tried unnsuccesfully to sleep a little.

Our bags took a while to arrive, and while I waited I struck up a conversation with a woman from Detroit who had apparently taken a trip to London 20 years ago, met an Englishman she then married, and has lived in London ever since. "Have a fun six months" she told me. "But then get the hell out of this place". She also reccomended that I take a trip to Brighton and "stay the hell away" from Brixton.

Our flat is on the fifth floor of a really cool old building called Manson Place with a white townhouse-looking front. There are no stairs and it's a little dingy, but it's very quant and charming. We share the apartment with a lot of other girls from LMU. Katy and I have a private bedroom, but we share the kitchen and little bathroom with everyone.

I spent the day trying to get my act together and running errands. I picked up a pay-as-you-go phone, wandered through Tesco, and payed for my Istanbul trip at the begining of February.

Off to a meeting, and then either out or to bed! Both sound equally appealing.