At time of writing, I'm surrounded by boxes and a small pile of my personal belongings. I've known that tomorrow was coming for months, and I'm not unhappy that it has, but I have a feeling that its impact won't fully hit me until it's over. Tomorrow, I will be leaving London.
For two years, I’ve been living in Canada Water, which is within what I like to call the river district (too close to the river to really qualify as South London). The name is apt, as there’s water everywhere, and at night, I can see the towering structures of Canary Wharf through my window. Except when the fog is thick, in which case I can barely the see other side of the road.
I don’t want to move, but the decision was made for me. (Misunderstanding regarding pet allowance; nothing interesting and nobody’s fault.) So, the monsters and I got together and decided that since we’re moving, we might as well move somewhere different. Eventually, somewhere different ended up being Maidenhead, which admittedly is just outside London.
When I first came here as a teenager, what struck me before anything else was the sprawl; a maelstrom of people coming and going at all hours, to and from all kinds of places. You could travel on the tube every day for a year without seeing the same person twice. I was running away from something myself at the time, and I’d found the perfect place to get lost. I think I’m still lost to this day.
Since then, I haven’t spent more than a few years in the same place. Now that I’ve had some time to think about it, I think that’s been for the best. When I think about moving to Maidenhead, I’m actually wondering about where to go from there. To put a modern (and really lame) spin on the old saying, home is where your smartphone is.
But for now, there’s a nice park in which a certain husky will have a great time chasing tennis balls. And considerably fewer drunk people singing outside my window at ungodly hours.
All the best,