There's no place like home

A week or so back marked my second anniversary of living in my flat. Unremarkable in itself, certainly, but I realised it's actually the longest I've been in any one property since I left home for university in 1999. I did spend two years in the same room in my university hall of residence*, but as I went home for vacations (and there were more of those than term-time really) then I'm not sure that counts.

Either way, I've now been here officially longer than anywhere else in my entire adult life. And if you add up all the time I've been in Bethnal Green, well, that's heading for four years, and if we include time in London altogether... it's nearly five years now. Bethnal Green feels like home. London feels like home.

I do get confused occasionally though. In my mobile phone's address book, "Home" rings my parents' house. On my sat nav system, "Home" guides me back to Bethnal Green. This discrepancy, once or twice, has led to hilarious consequences of Jessica (understandably) sending me round in circles, trying to take me back to my starting place (Bethnal Green) when I actually want to go to Loughborough.

This is neither clever nor funny. But it is true. If I were always to be clever and funny, I might start charging.

* I don't mean I never left the room. I did go out. Sometimes. But to be honest, there were a lot of stairs, and I had a computer and everything in my room, so there really wasn't a lot of point. And it was always raining anyway.