crash
Five years ago I was living in Paris, my partner had recently told me he had decided to move back to Iceland, he was packing and his family was visiting for the last time. I fell asleep watching BBC choice, and woke up in the morning to the news of Diana's death.
I felt shattered, my nerves gave up and I started sobbing for what felt like ages. I went out to buy a couple of Diana bios and some black ribbon that I pinned on my t-shirt, then went mourning outside the hospital where she'd been taken. I felt absolutely miserable for several days.
Unbeknownst to people around me (and myself as well), I was trying to come to terms with my own personal loss, and the only way I was able to do that at the time was through affiliation to a public event that was for me as sudden and inexplicable and shocking.
Where were you five years ago?
You know those moments in Ally McBeal when the energetic music suddenly stops with the sound of the needle scratching the record or, better still, slows down and dies as if the record player has been unplugged? Well, that's exactly how I'm feeling at the moment.
Everything's packed, my room is clean and in about one hour I'm temporarily moving in with G. in *finger down throat* Streatham, until we get our new place.
I am putting much more energy into my job search (read: I am actually job hunting rather than thinking about maybe doing it tomorrow). The reason? Money is running very low, goodness knows when the Italian company I'm freelancing for will pay me, so I finally started getting seriously worried.