And I wish that you'd stop and tell me your name..
Back in Luton... and a few days I got jeered at by a group of children for wearing 'boys' shoes. It brought back painful memories from the last time I owned a pair of brogues. I was in primary school and it was the first day back after the summer holidays. I was feeling proud of my new uniform and especially my brand new, black patent brogues. I had chosen them myself from John Lewis and my Mum complimented them enormously. The children at school didn't. I probably cried about it, but in time I got over it.
Just over a week in Luton and I'm already itching to leave. I could indulge in 'Flâneur'-ing about the place. According to wikipedia it means 'a person who walks the city to experience it.' Whilst in Luton I don't think it would do me any good. I fear it would resign me to the life of a misanthropist, a fate which I am rightfully terrified of. In any event, a flying trip to east London has made me mournfully tired of Luton, leaving me with itchy bones and in a permanent state of entrapment. Never the less, i have been thinking a lot about the comming months and how I intend to spend my life as a graduate... a nice kick in the arse.