I'm sitting up in bed in 'my' room, listening to the street outside. It is a narrow way in a small town and there are shops, and at night bars. It reminds me a great deal of Calle De La Cruz in Fuengirola, where I had a flat for eleven months. The constant buzz of voices in the day and the loud music at night. There it was warm or hot, depending, and the beer was cheap and I had money anyway, so I would be out in the day more often than not; here I am skint and it's cold and frankly there is nowhere I want to go much. So, it's the same but different. But isn't that an apt description of any stage of life? The same but different?