Scary stuff

Well, I've been reading over my old posts and I have to say it's fairly embarrassing.
Which is probably why I haven't touched this for so long.
But - given that I'm about to "embark on a new adventure" as my dad has been saying, I should probably start putting some words down again.

I'm off to London. Although anyone wasting their time reading this would probably know me, and therefore, that.
Anyway - I'm pretty f***ing excited. However, I'm having a thought:

I have to be honest here - I'm getting nervous about where I'll be living.
Don't get me wrong - I'm all for living in the dodgy end of town, where trannies and hookers hang out outside my boudoir and know my name. That doesn't scare me.
On the other hand, muggings and murders co-existing on my street oversteps a limit to the bohemian life I've always wanted to lead.

The issue here - everything I've ever been super-afraid of...has tended to happen to me.
Perhaps this shouldn't be looked at negatively - maybe I've subconsciously put myself in situations where I know my fears will be challenged. I guess that supposes a sort of bravery on my part.
Or stupidity.

I can't watch crime tv shows. They make me envisage my own self as a victim in various CSI Miami situations. Please don't let this be another fear that comes true.

But, if something worthy of a csi episode does occur - I can't complain about life so far. It's been pretty sweet.