While my blog is nearing its anniversary, this week a more important anniversary hit. Tuesday was the anniversary of when I moved to London. As it rolled around, I started getting wierd about it. Kind of misty. Sometimes teary. Lots of evaluating.
Of the last year, I spent the first five months in London. Came home for a month and then changed careers. So I’ve also just hit six months at the shop.
When I was uprooted and sent to London, I thought my life in Chicago was as good as it could get. I had the shop, I’d started working on my weight, I had good friends, I was writing. It was good. Then I went to London for a BIG ADVENTURE.
Tonight I went back and reread a lot of my old posts about London. It feels like it was years and not months ago. Lying in bed, listening to the BBC1, the #19 rolling by. Walking by Paul and then walking by his memorial. Going to the Phene Arms and Chelsea Kitchen. Bringing the Fire Department to the hall for my turkey disaster.
If you are bored, click on the calendar. You can go into my archives and read about the ulter fry in Belfast, England winning the Rugby World Cup, 24 hours in Rome, and many other observations.