One of the reasons for which the journey tale is an archetypal genre of fiction is because it is intuitively obvious that traveling can lead to new understandings and possibly enlightenment. The two kilometre trek from Wadham College to Church Walk has already done so; I can tell that I am going to have to change my life.
Firstly, I can see that in any room that has a decent supply of shelving, the supply of books I have here is absolutely pitiful. If you walked into the room of a thirteen year old with as many books as I have, you would become concerned about his life prospects and strongly suspect that he spends too much time playing video games.
Secondly, I am going to need to learn to rise with the dawn, at the same time as I am unlearning any immodest behaviours I have picked up. This is because my room lacks both bedsheets and curtains, though I do have a lovely view into the back yard and the houses around us.
All told, this place is really nice, and it was very kind of Kai to help me move. Between the adjacent kitchen and the large amounts of natural lighting, this place strikes me as much nicer than Library Court, all told. I am excited about living here, and inviting people for tea and such. First, I need to go write that damnable practice examination.