One last DLR ride to work,
One last DLR ride back home.
One last walk by the Thames alone.
Oh, boo frikkity hoo. I’m moving to a cool place at a much cheaper rent but I feel very, very emotional about leaving my sweet lil apartment. Dedicated readers (~2) have probably read about all the whys and hows so I’m not going to repeat all that. But since this morning I’ve been thinking, this is my last day here (even though I went to work and technically didn’t spend the day there). This is my last cup of tea here. And my last ride to work on the DLR. Oh the sweet DLR. I’ll miss you love. Even though you chug along at your own merry pace. And I’ll miss you balcony with the view of the Thames. And I’ll miss you reflection of lights on the water at night. And partially-familiar neighbours, I might occasionally think of you too – your faces will forever be fuzzy in my memory. I’ll miss you Italian man with the little dog, walking by in the evenings with scary stories of people’s legs being slashed. And I’ll miss you sound of waves. And I’ll miss you sea gulls because you don’t fly to where I’ll now live. I’ll miss you vast views of sky. I’ll miss you little boats, yachts and clippers as you bob by. I’ll miss you fat man with your two dogs, the smaller one of which ritualistically relieves himself in the garden in front of my apartment causing you then to bend down to clean up, exposing more of your (hairy) backside then most would want to see, especially at breakfast time. I won’t miss you hooded dog walker – I wish you would give your dog some real exercise and let him off his leash every once in a while. I’ll miss you crazy woman when you do your wild exercises every morning. I love how dedicated you are and how you are there every morning, swinging it, no matter the weather. But I must say, that one time you lowered your pants for some reason in the garden to do squatting exercises (now why would anyone do that!) and thought no one was watching, I happened to be doing the dishes but I did respectfully avert my eyes (ok, I didn’t. I was horrified and I continued to stare). I’ll miss you chalky smell of apartment. I’ll miss you people, who contemplate life in front of the river. Most of all, I’ll miss you Thames. You’ve been a real friend and though I’ll still live in the same city you’ve given life to, I’ll miss living by you. I really held it together until I returned home tonight and walked by you, glittering there in the dark. You, the full moon, the cloudy sky and Tchaikovsky. Enough to make anyone cry.