Running, Waiting, Wishing

So. In the past few days, I have been doing a lot of waiting. There are miles of red tape to cut through. And of course, the key to all of this is “proof of address.” But not just any old mail will do. They are very particular… Basically, it’s a vicious cycle which I’m fighting to break with each well-mannered phone call. I’ve applied for a bank account, a student oyster card, and an appointment for a national insurance number. Now, I wait. Wait for important mail to arrive. Wait for applications to be approved. Wait for my existence in London to be recognized by the powers that be.

In the meantime, I’m waging a daily war on the Forbidden Forest. At some point, one of the prior tenants built raised beds with what I can only assume are railroad ties. This must have been some time ago, as the ties have now rotted. I dug up one of the beds and chopped up the rotten ties to use as mulch. Now the ivy, on the other hand, has proven a bit trickier to destroy. Imagine Devil’s Snare minus the strangling. It does not want to be plucked… So I chopped, and hacked, and pulled. I’ve made some headway, but the Forest is resisting my attempts to tame it. When I’m not waging war, I’ve taken up running in the park. I might be overdoing it a bit, but what else do I have to do? No National Insurance number? No work. And classes don’t begin until October 3. So I run. And keep fighting.

Run, Forrest, run!

The Forbidden Forest

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