Ah sweet city my time has come.
I will miss the sheer scale of this place, with its vast structures, higgledy-piggledy architecture, green parks and the river. I will miss the razzmatazz and the sadness it covers up. I will miss the Big Issue sellers and Transport for London’s sense of humour. I will miss my mad alcoholic friends. They are an inspiration to me and have kept me smiling for almost six years straight. Beautiful, each and every one of them. I will miss the loneliness and desperateness here; the aching, needy camaraderie. I will miss the passion and the energy.
I will miss the Barley Mow the Hole in the Wall and Annie’s by the river. In fact the entire be-leafed environs of W4 will always be fondly remembered. I will miss planning the next trip on the return flight from the last one. I will miss spending the odd Sunday at the Church with a few hundred other antipodeans (there is nothing like an impromptu drunken rendition of Khe Sahn on the Northern Line to get yourself staring in a baffled Spanish tourist’s video).
I will miss Yo Sushi! and Tight-Arse Tuesdays at the Fulham Odeon. I will miss my role as Vodka Quality Control Project Manager. Hell I will even miss OneTel Bombay who can’t manage to get my name and address right to refund the £25.64 they owe me from when I discontinued broadband with them two years ago. I will miss calling Indian call centres for every single UK utility. I will miss the close proximity to everything. Except home.
I will miss the view of Turnham Green Church’s spire from my bedroom window. I will miss the skinny jeans and knee high boots, big stupid sunglass wearing girls from Essex. God bless them. I will miss Green & Blacks chocolate.
I will miss long drunken chats with black cab drivers. I will miss the snugly little book shops, tea shops and pubs, tucked away so enchantingly in the side streets of villages in the Cotswold countryside. I will miss the late nights. I will miss a few brain cells. Some cash. And more than a little bit of pride.
London, you have a broken heart a big smile, and I have so much fun with you. Like an emotional pinball machine you spring loaded me from your plunger and bashed me against your flippers for half a dozen years. I feel like I won the multi-ball bonus and now I’m heading out the one-way door. Look after your adopted children (especially the Australians 🙂 as I care deeply for them and wish for them the brightest of futures.
Written June 27 2007 @ 154 Watchfield Court, Sutton Court Road, Chiswick, London, UK, W4 4NE.
Hello, I'm Sas Petherick. I'm a self-doubt researcher, coach and podcaster who helps thinking humans transcend self-doubt. If you'd like to receive these posts in your inbox please subscribe here (with bonus info and first notice of opportunities to work with me). PS: I totally ♥ Instagram - join me there?