Soul is still here. The longer she lives with me the less I think about finding her a new home, conveniently avoiding thoughts on the Landlord’s avid dislike of cats and the cost of flying her home. Together we are making her round-bellied. She wakes me up at five in the morning, copies me stretching on the yoga mat, bites too hard when playing and follows me to the bathroom.  We are getting used to one another.

Yesterday I had a chat with an old friend. The two of us talked about how all the things we thought were cool when we were twelve are actually still the coolest things around. Like games.  And adventures.  And making up recipes.

Last week, missing my friends back home, I sought solace in my re-discovered twelve-year-old interests. I hiked an obscene amount, at first choosing the ‘interesting’ way and by the fourth hike of the week simply finding myself scrabbling through mountainside undergrowth as if drawn there by an unseen force. I joined Yangsan board game group for the first time, which was great. I experimented in the kitchen, watched Game of Thrones and ate too many biscuits.

Sunday morning found me playing chase through the apartment on all fours, like a loping human-gazelle hybrid. At midday I was picked up for a picnic and tried to introduce Soul to my co-teacher and his daughter. She freaked out and hid successfully under the bookshelf, leaving my guests looking doubtfully at the series of cardboard boxes and dangling paper pieces that has become my front room. ‘It’s her playground’ I explained, and watched their bemused expressions shift focus, from the boxes to me.

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