Time for a Change

"Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford."
— Samuel Johnson


Oh, Sam. How true. And yet not.

For the record, I am not tired of London, the city. I don't think I ever will be. Even after five years and some odd months here, the city gives me a thrill whenever I step outside my flat. I love the buildings: the white stucco-fronted Georgian townhouses, the red brick Victorian terraces, even the glass-and-steel modern additions such as the Gherkin.

I am not tired of constantly being surprised and amused. Just this past Sunday, while strolling in St. James's Park, we passed a man dressed up as Wonder Woman, raising money for the London Marathon. Now I know what I did wrong when I raised money for my own charity marathon run: no superhero costumes. We also passed four Smartcars covered in astroturf, advertising a fake lawn company, and several people out celebrating St. Patrick's Day a wee bit early but with enthusiasm nonetheless.

I am never tired of stumbling across bits of history. Like the two townhouses, side by side, with blue plaques on them. One reads, "Jimi Hendrix lived here," the other, "George Handel lived here." My husband wanted to know if Hendrix ever told Handel to keep it down. But still. How cool is that?

And I will never tire of walking in the parks. Of watching dogs chase squirrels, squirrels pose for nuts, and children squeal with laughter. Of the ducks and geese and moorhens and swans, especially in the spring when fluffballs of feathers follow behind their parents.

But.

I am tired of LIFE in London. Of fighting the rain. And the tube. And the "can't do" attitude. I'm tired of being a foreigner, the outsider, the "one of these things is not like the others."

Mostly I'm tired of fighting the seasonal depression that descends during the long nights of the gray winter. Lamps that mimic the sun are just no match for the real thing.

I've finally stopped fighting the facts: I, and my husband, need to live in a sunny climate.

So it is time to move to what has consistently remained "home" in our thoughts.

It's a scary time. We don't have jobs in the US at the moment. And the economic news is bleak.

But we have friends there, and family, and a "can do" attitude that we feel will erode even further if we stay here. So bad news be damned. It's time to go home. We hope to be back by the autumn.

But first, we are going to enjoy the hell out of London before we go. Try to fall back in love with the city, before the public transport grime and constant elbows in the back and drizzle made us plead for a divorce.