To put it mildly: the last six weeks have been quite hectic.

Five weeks last Friday, I was out at the theatre with a friend, and had my mobile phone on silent. I got out at half ten, and as we headed into town for some beers, I listened to my answerphone. And I’d been offered a job – one that I’d known might have been a possibility, but wasn’t holding out for.

And it began on the following Monday at 9am. In London.

I was shellshocked, to say the least. Slightly dazed, we headed into town for aforementioned beers and ended up dancing to the Smiths. Which as far as I’m concerned, is a good night. On the Sunday, I packed some bags, and went to stay with some friends who I cannot thank enough.

Fast forward six weeks from that first day. It’s May Day. I’m employed. I now live in London, in a very lovely flat that I managed to find surprisingly quick. I’m settled in; a routine is beginning to emerge. I’m tired at night, but stuff gets done, and I live a pleasant life. During my time at university, I made a fair few friends in the city, and I’m so glad to have them nearby now. Six weeks ago, I was unemployed and living at home. To be honest, I had been for a while. And I wasn’t sure where I was going to end up, or if I’d ever get a job, or anything. Not one of my best times. Hit its nadir pretty much the week before The Job.

And now I’m here. And, with any luck, it’ll never be like that again. Something’s been started, and I feel it’ll be very good. Which is why, even though like Tom I’m prone to putting off all my grand plans – a talk at NotCon, the novel, the album, various articles – I’ll still probably get around to them some time. Sometimes, just being here is enough.