Five weeks to go

That's me. The one on the left. I'm cold, the freaks on the subway have scared the shit out of me and I've been awake for 15 hours and counting. But I'm at Times Square.

It always bewilders me when people are perfectly happy staying put. Or not even necessarily staying put, but not accelerating their lives in any real way. A bit about me- I have itchy feet. I get bored. Easily. I change radio stations before a song hits it's chorus. I have no idea what my real hair colour is. I idle between neurotically clean and scarily lazy. I work in hospitality despite having a degree in journalism and even though people really bug me. Some days I subsist on coffee, sex and cigarettes, the next I preach total love for my body, drink tea, do yoga and read The Secret.

The point is. After approximately 15 years in school, six months in full-time employment, 22 years of living in the same town shortly followed by a five-year relationship implosion, London is Calling.

Rewind two months to scene where I sign up for a working visa online.

Mum: Are you sure this isn't just a knee-jerk reaction to the break-up?
Me: Yes. So.
Mum: What if he wants you back?
Me: He'll have to come to London.
Mum: But what will you do over there?
Me: I guess we'll find out.

And so we wait.