Glasgow, Goodbye.

A few weeks ago I accidentally wrote a self-indulgent (more self-indulgent that normal), schmaltz-fest post.  It was New Year, I was feeling fragile.I came over all reflective and found myself banging on about learning lessons and needing focus and about how I long to get out of here. Yep. There was definitely some longing. It just happened, I’m sorry.  The crux of the post was this:  I’m moving to London.  With Garry.  And Smokey Cat.  We leave Glasgow on Monday 27th February.

People keep asking me how I feel.  “How do you feel?”  I’ve had a migraine for a week.  I can’t lower my shoulders from my earlobes.  I have this weird stabbing pain in my right shoulder blade.  There’s something wrong with my eye and I have the constant, eeking feeling my neck might snap. I don’t say that, of course.  I say, “Fine thanks.  Y’know – excited and nervous”. Then they ask what I’ll do in London. “What will you do in London?”.  I make a joke about the streets being paved with gold and then I twiddle my hair.  I find it harder than usual to make eye contact.  What will I do in London? What will I DO in London? What will I do in London?

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