In a few short weeks, I’ll be off on a new adventure to the Americas. I don’t want to leave you, London, but let’s not be sad about it.
We’ve had some lovely times together… the Royal Wedding, followed by a new prince, the Diamond Jubilee, the Olympics.
There were dark times too…the summer riots, when you burned for days and days. Sitting in a pub with the windows boarded up. Everyone nervous, unsure. It was a while before we felt right again.
London, you introduced me to shandies, scones and clotted cream, castles, egg cups. I think I’ve said “sorry!” and “cheers” more in these past few years than in all my years before you.
You put new ideas in my head of how things could be. You gave me new dreams to dream about.
Remember the first time I saw you? Emerged from the Underground with my life in 2 suitcases; bleary-eyed, I stood there blinking at impossible zig zags of traffic, cars, black cabs, red double decker buses, people and cameras, union jacks and neon blinking signs, a craggy spine of pubs and banks and possibilities.
That feeling in my chest – that surge of fearful joy as I took it all in, in one breath. And stepped into it, setting my feet to your rhythm. Tuning my heartbeat to yours.