just a number in a production line

London and her intensity, her crowds, her traffic and her unmistakable 'fragrance'. I'm staying in a hostel so huge that I am merely another number on a production line. Nobody will remember me when I'm gone, nobody will even notice except for the cleaner who will change the linen on my bed. This week, the hat‑making week, I don't mind. Next week I move to a friend's place as his flatmate is going away for a few weeks. This will save me about a thousand dollars so that's pretty cool.

Munich improved, as places often do once you've decided you don't think much of them. My last day started in traditional Bavarian style; my hosts served me weissbier and weisswurst ‑ white beer and sausage, Bavarian specialties. We had a great breakfast together and I learned all sorts of things about Bavaria, such as the fact that legally, beer is not considered to be alcohol, but is in fact classed as food. I nearly cancelled my plane trip when they told me this! Starting a day on beer and sausage is great fun but it did leave me feeling like I needed a good walk. I wandered down the road, through a park where little kids rode sleds down newly snowed‑upon slopes.

Reaching the bottom of the other side of the hill I found myself following a small stream lined with the tiny garden shacks that you see everywhere in Germany. I followed the path for about half an hour until I came to another path along a bigger stream which eventually became a river, I was in some kind of nature park, the traffic noise sucked into oblivion high above me, the snow crunching under my feet and the ducks commenting to each other on how cold their bums were in the freezing water. I did a few practise snowball throws and hit my target three times, which shocked me so much that I missed the rest of my attempts. Eventually I tracked down (haha) a train station and found that I was now in zone 4 and it would cost me 5 euros to cross the 2 zones back to my street! I felt terribly smug as we went through several stops, then when I got home I couch potatoed for the rest of the day. Finally I farewelled my generous hosts and jumped on the plane to London.

Ah, London. I love it and hate it more each time I come here. The close knit buildings cocoon you in their dark colours and the people bump into you from everywhere. Things are slowly becoming familiar, I even have my own oyster card for the tube. With each visit, people here seem to be nicer and I wonder if it's my pre‑conceptions that have altered or if I'm just running into a lot of foreigners this time around! My first day was spent visiting favourite haunts; Angel ‑ because I know where everything is, Carnaby Street and Kingly Court ‑ because my favourite shops are there, and this time around, Desigual, the Spanish clothing store that is the sole reason I have managed to refrain from buying any clothes for the last 4 months, saving up for a spree there.

Tonight in the bar at the ex‑courthouse "Clink" hostel, boys are making penis shapes out of balloons, christmas lights are flashing, and I am having a night in so that I'm fresh and inspired for my week of millinery. In Kingly Court tonight I heard some girls comment on another girl's hat and when she told them she'd made it, I took it as a sign that my hats are going to be AWESOME.

And if they're not, I'll send everyone photos of someone else's hats instead.