A slight smile and look of anxiety and the dig in your pockets to pull out the keys to open your front door makes people have that urge to go to the toilet.

The squeak on the floorboard everytime you enter your room, no matter what time of day or night, still makes everyone aware that you are home.

The couch which you sit on and never want to get up from after a long days work makes that remote control look so far away on your weathered but charmed coffee table.

The travel guides you flicked through wishing you were there sometimes sit alonside other peoples cd's you have listened to and enjoyed.

The socks, ice cream and alcohol that goes missing.

The menu's for take away in easy reach, but you already have the number on your mobile phone.

The bills you share pinned to the communal noticeboard in the kitchen which sits above the many unopened letters of long since departed previous occupants.

Someone not speaking English in another room excitedly and you wondering why you dropped out of your language lessons at high school.

The photo's tacked to your wall of places, people and good times, along with the small souvenirs which hang, pile or gather dust.

This is a typical house share. Sometimes a beautiful harmony of peoples existance which collide together because you all have the most common basic animal instincts. Shelter, warmth and good food.

Today is my last day within Bramlands at Clapham Junction. A place which I found home and many of my friends have also. A place I returned from work an dknowning in the next hour a jingle of a key in the lock will welcome home my housemates also. The familiar shout of 'Hello or Hola' would be returned with a 'Yo' as they walked through the door. Smiles and talking about how rotten our day was a regular informal occurance with a glimpse into each of our lives, both personal and professional.

I will miss the looks at the end of the night while within one of the many establishments around the Clapham area. The look of 'what now?' and me saying 'Back to mine?'

I will miss my housemates, both gorgeous and both indepentently unique in thier own ways have taught me tolerance and freedom to express my burping at will along with some very broken spanish and mixed netball sessions.

I will miss my neighbours, most long since rotated or departed. But would of been a welcome return to summer with some new faces on the balcony and me inviting them over for a beer.

I will miss the little bits of me that remain here. The painted walls, the framed photos and the memories from existing housemates re-told on random nights to other people in the flat.

I will miss the sharing, the love and the friendly nature this place holds people to as soon as they walk through the blue door. It's homely with that added pleasure of stocked amounts of liquor.

I now leave it in the hands of the new Kiwi lass moving in who will soon find out the pleasures of living with Emily and Maite. I will hopefully return to this blue front door one day and smile knowing that this used be my home.