Even though I've only left London for a few months after spending the past 4 years there, stopping by for 2 days on my way home for the Christmas break was a big shock from the sedate environs of Princeton.

Apart from the crowds in the West End, it was a change to hear the cacophony of different languages being spoken around me by the potpourri of nationalities. The graduate students in Princeton are a fairly diverse bunch, but the university as a whole is generally populated by rich young WASP undergrads, so it was invigorating to sit on the Tube with a Japanese couple to my left while to my right several Russians held an animated discussion.

I haven't noticed this before, but it seems that the white Englishman is increasingly becoming an endangered species in London. Staying with my friend Jia Hong in the East End, the area was crammed with dingy kebab joints and Pakistani grocery shops, and I'm certain that I did not see a single English person in the area while I was there. The only white people I saw were conversing in some East European language I didn't recognise.

Going back to UCL was a surreal experience. It seemed only like yesterday that I was trudging through the corridors, rushing from one lecture to the next, yet this time I was an outsider.

At a stairwell, I had the pleasant surprise of bumping into Prof. David Miller. My first encounter with him was through the UCL Chamber Music Club, as he was organising a chamber concert that I wanted to perform in back in my first year in UCL. That was my first public performance in London, and I also had the opportunity of hearing his fine baritone voice later in the concert. He later taught my 2nd year E&M class, and while teaching it he was the first lecturer to spot my potential, and the next couple of years he was the professor I went to for advice and encouragement.

In the middle of last year (2005), I agreed to accompany him on my guitar on some Dowland songs that he wanted to sing, but in September he got a stroke which damaged half of his brain functionality. I was very upset by this, more so when I saw how his ebullient and cheerful self had been changed by the stroke. However, I was in the chaos of my final year, and regrettably I didn't get in touch with him apart from a couple of emails and phone calls.

When I saw him this time round, he seemed to be in much better shape. He could smile and recall that I'm in Princeton, which was more than he could do before I left London. He isn't quite his old self yet, but definitely he's made a lot of progress. My only regret is that I never did manage to accompany him in the songs.