Working a normal 8 hour day and commuting for 4 hours, for 16 straight days is enough to drive anyone insane. On my way home tonight, whilst pondering how I was going to find time to do laundry, cook a meal and get enough sleep to begin the mundane cycle again tomorrow, I decided to treat myself to a takeaway meal at the local Korean place. I walked through the door, in total London fashion - iPod on in one hand, oyster card in the other. The owner approached me and as I placed my order, she ushered me into a seat and placed a cup of steaming, traditional tea in my hands. Whilst I waited for my food, I looked around the restaurant at all the couples and friends sharing dinner. I felt out of place sitting on my own. As my food arrived and I got up to leave, the owner held the door open for me and she gently placed her hand on my arm, telling me to have a good night. This small act of kindness had caught me off guard. As I trundled off down the road with my brown paper bag, tears started to stream down my face. I have spent my days convincing myself that I am fine, even tricking myself that I am happy. When in fact it has been a charade, one that has kept me sane until now. My steely resolve to make my moving here seem worthwhile, when in fact I am alone and slightly miserable, is starting to wane. I put my iPod on and as I listen to the lyrics of Adele's "Hometown Glory" walking home in the dark, I pray that this all pays off!