As I walked out of the university, the 29-40mph southwesterly wind gushing around me, the grey skies hiding the sun from view, I could not help but smile.
My former boss was right after all. I am an anglophile.
Being here, writing this on a bus (on a notebook at least and then blogging it later in my room), travelling from the outskirts into the Brighton city centre gives me this feeling of serenity. Sure, there were times today when I wanted to go to to the second floor of the library and yell about the bang-banging of the heating system renovation. But right now, on this 20-minute bus ride back, watching East Sussex pass by from the window, watching the teens on the playground swings, a bus driver giving another a thumbs up for giving way, the guy with the Indiana Jones hat at the crosslight, the girl trying to button her overcoat flapping in the wind, the guy stepping on his girlfriend's rainbow floor-length skirt, the leaves racing after the cars, the husky with its head stuck out the front window, watching the world go by.
This is nice.