I miss the walk through the ice to the Tube station. I miss the number of people everywhere, all walking with their chins tucked into their scarves and tears from the sharp wind staining their face. I miss the iconic landmarks that appear when you walk around a bend in the road or get off at a different station. I miss the pubs with wooden floorboards and pints and football on the television. I miss lock-ins with the lights off. I miss Camden Market and all the rubbish there. I miss the polite drivers who always wave and let you in. I miss sweet and savoury popcorn at the cinema. I miss the art galleries. I miss the voices. I miss my friends. I miss the idea that something exciting could happen at any time, even though it usually didn’t. I miss the slightly warm days when so many people would attempt to sunbake in the parks. I miss the television. I miss Friday nights watching TFI Friday before heading to the pub. I miss having a family that weren’t my family but mostly let me in. I miss being homesick and writing and receiving letters. I miss London.