It’s May 24th and my life is about to become very different. As I huddle against the heater on the train trying to warm my damp feet I watch the Essex countryside hurtling past for the last time. The rain is relentless, the wind rather forgetting that March is long gone but the fields of golden corn sparkle amidst the grey skies.
Six months down the line and my temporary home lasted longer than expected. I have been privileged to live immersed in the scenery that I have admired hung on the walls of art galleries and captured in paintings by the great artist Constable. People pay milliions to enjoy the very same places I have walked, ran and sat and picnicked in. Money could never buy me my memories. I appreciate every moment I have spent here.
Now it is time for a new adventure. Time to move on.
Passing the Olympic stadium and the building site that it has become seems apt today. Grat things happened here and then a lull, a break to recover. In a few weeks time it is expected to burst back into life. Reinvigorated, fresh as a daisy and ready for the next instalment.