London Calling
A story about being broke, alone, and minding the gap
My first thought this morning was about London—the heartache I felt during my first year living there and how alone I was. I was 26 or 27.
I had left the partner I had moved there with and found myself alone in a poky studio flat with a coin-activated electricity meter. It was just one room. It had everything I needed, but it was small. Very, very small.
I was broke, alone, without my partner, loathing my job, and without the means to properly communicate with home in America. Technology wasn’t what it is today—it was 2008. I was barely on Facebook, had a BlackBerry, and sometimes Skype. I remember my cell phone bills being around £400 ($600) a month. I remember buying a bottle of white wine and oatmeal sachets from Tesco Express that kept me going.
Why wasn’t I just packing up the few things I had and going back home to America—saving myself from this failed move abroad and failed relationship?