So in the whirl of getting ready for our big move to Scotland and the excitement of finding a new flat (omg, it’s huge), we somehow didn’t notice until the other day that we really only have one weekend left in London.
Nearly six years for me and three for Valerie will be over pretty soon. All of a sudden things we’ve been meaning to do for years have become things we’ll probably do on a future trip to London, rather than when we actually live here.
We haven’t left yet, but the days are literally numbered.
So, now we’re in limbo, the house is full of boxes and pretty soon we’ll be waking up to a medieval castle in the distance and clean, cold, drinkable water in the tap. Blogging has been and will remain pretty light here while I work hard to make the move a success (my new office in Edinburgh is lovely and I’m getting very familiar with the East Coast mainline as I begin to work with Scottish clients) and we both get our little shoebox of a house packed away, but after that you may see a fair few posts as I reacquaint myself with the city of my birth.
I can’t wait for the move, but I’ll admit to a few melancholic moments as I’ve gazed at London’s skyline from various high places these last few weeks. It’s a big, dirty, noisy, smelly expensive madhouse of a place, but it’s been an education.