Its been one of those points in your life when you really say "I can't believe its September already". Now perhaps that's a September thing, the knowledge that the summer is closing and the clouds of winter are approaching makes the previous few months of sunny lethargy feel like a blurred blink of an eye. But for me, the last few months have taken on a strange life of their own, with no boss to answer to and no schedule to keep but my own. With all that free time I thought I would have reams of stuff on here, like all the best laid plans eh? But I finally logged in after a month has flown by so here's the first post of September and its fast nearing the end of the month. Must do better.
The preoccupation has been around our decision in the middle of August to move to London. I think I had suggested as much in a previous post, certainly that it was a strong option. Both the missus and I took the decision from a purely personal agenda (funny how all my previous life decision before I got married were pivotal around work) about where we want to live now. For those that don't know, she is American. American in the sense that she sounds like an American but the truth is that if she were actually American in spirit I probably wouldn't have married her. She has this seemingly unnatural European-ness that I find it hard to describe. Its only by being in the US for a while (or is that away from Europe) that you notice the conventions and mannerisms that unite most Europeans, despite our apparent differences. She's one of us, I'm pleased to say. She has this nagging unconscious knowledge of life in Europe, like a person who knows they were born of the wrong gender but don't know why they know that. Its nature not nurture and it helped us make a decision.
Apart from that we were both at a crossroads job wise and the opportunity arose to return (for me at least) and make London home base. At least for now. The great advantage of the business we're in means that geography becomes irrelevant and it all becomes a question and trial of how much you can do without the things, places and people that you love. For me this was hard. I'm not a comfortable person anywhere really (perhaps if I was shorter or fatter?) and I think I always figured that eventually I'd stumble upon a place I'd want to stay, that felt right. Like a spinning top finding a crack in the pavement. New York was not like this. I always felt I was passing through. So many people I've met view New York as this transient truck stop on route to somewhere new, emotionally and financially as well as geographically. They would either plan to return to where they came from (richer in spirit and dollar) or launch onwards from New York to the place of their ambition.
Most people coming to New York for the first time unfailingly describe it like stepping onto a film set, the icons of childhood TV and film pervade at every turn. Living here this very quickly fades and the unusual gently transforms into the usual and within weeks everywhere else seems alien from this uber-reality. Even trips back to London were viewed with the blurred over-aware eyes of a tourist, which is quite a strange experience, feeling suddenly out of step with a city whos heartbeat you are no longer tuned to hear. Now at the point of leaving New York I am revisited by that initial wonderment, the city appears surreal again, I'm waiting for someone to shout "Cut!" and everyone packs up and goes home. My experience here would feel like a dream if it weren't for the fact that I'm certain the cameras will keep on rolling after we've left. A dream that I can revisit at will but for a $600 plane ticket. I love New York, I just haven't plucked up the courage to tell it yet.
So we move in 10 days. The shipping company have taken everything of any value or practical use that we own, leaving (handily) all the things in life that you ferry around but never liked or never really needed. We have been unintentionally cleansed of all the stuff we don't need on our travels. Call it closet irrigation. We certainly feel much better for it. The glass vase that lurks wantingly at the back of the cupboard, the odd coloured mug you can't remember where it came from, 50 bottles of shampoo bought on special tried and tested and discarded, rope shoes you bought on a beach somewhere in Thailand that the city never fully appreciated. All this stuff now litters our flat. I'm looking forward to the close of next week when all this stuff goes down the rubbish chute and we are finally free before our journey into the relative unknown of London Oct 2007. For the moment though, these grumpy, inferior objects make the white sterility of our flat feel like a home and I am very grateful for them. Perhaps the deserve more than an unceremonious trip down 20 stories in a rubbish chute. I shall apply myself to think of an appropriate send off.
The coming to London is a strange sensation. We're both impatient to get there and start the cogs of life turning again, at the same time valuing this floaty dreamlike existence of being around New York as if we were waiting for the city itself to tell us when to leave. Now we're into the final fortnight we've grabbed this new found fascination with the city and started to tick off the list off all the things we meant to do before we left someday. For every thing that gets ticked off, two more take their place. Reassuaring me we'll be back someday to finish it off some more. It made me think what my list would look like in London, having lived there for 30 years of course I didn't come close to even completeing a list never mind achieving half of what London inspires you to do and be.
I arrive in two weeks with the resolve to make even more of London than before. Like a survivor of a near death experience, I come back with more appreciation for the people and places I nearly left behind. Although honestly I could do without the fucking weather.
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