Silence...

 
Waking up this morning, I was confused for a while by the sounds of the flat. No 6am hairdrying, no kettles and no Kiss FM blasting from the bathroom. I've somehow learnt to sleep through the 7.15 crashing of crockery as the two nine-to-five workers of the house struggle through the early morning.

But not today. They've gone, and they ain't coming back. And they left me the washing up.

I've had seven flatmates in the 18 months since I moved to this flat, and it's true that nothing stays stable forever. Friends are getting married, thinking of families, shifting jobs, even moving out of London. Apparently the smog is really bad for kids.

Fortunately, one of them's only going as far as Harrow, so Sunday night saw us return to our favourite Karaoke bar in the town centre. We'd been away for a while, but it's now time to get back to that old routine.

Mog, however, is going all the way to The South. Hope they have email there.

As for me, I'm staying put as ever. And as of Wednesday, the Danish are coming. I'd probably better clean the bathroom mirror before then.