I am in my one bedroom stereotypical corporate downtown flat. Everything is black and white with chrome and glass accents. The mirrors are 10x the size of the tv.

It is situated in the west end of SoHo. On Old Compton Street if you know it, a funny place where worlds colide. It's sort of the borderline of many of London's defining neighborhoods. It's the north edge of theatreland. It's the eastern edge of bohemian political students in coffee shops, with bookstores on every corner, plus it's a throughway of the hard core gay clubbing and seedy underbelly of strip clubs and rooms by the hour venues. Plus, across Shaftsbury Avenue lie the paper lanterns of Chinatown.

It's incredibly central, and yet quite tucked away behind a little family italian place that makes fancy wedding type cakes and a posh bar with 10 pound cocktails.

it's nice. but also odd. being away from home for so long, and yet still somehow not so different. If I was here on vacation it's be some urban wonderland, but it's still business meetings and receptions. I finally got an oyster card (a top up card for the tube) and my AtoZ is so dogeared I practically look like a local buying milk and biscuits for when I am so lazy I have meetings at my dining table instead of braving the tottenham court road tube station.

it's a funny thing London, for the first few visits it's terrifying and huge and hollow. And then after a while you realise London doesnt give fuck, and you'll never know everywhere - so you just put your head down and shuffle along like all the other commuters.