The truth about itchy feet

Everybody is on the hunt to find me a husband. We talk about the amount of time I "have left" in hushed tones and everybody gives me pitying glances when I mention being kicked out of the country.

The truth is, I have roughly six months left in London and I am very aware of the fact that a marriage of conveinence is anything but, so yes, there is nothing I can put in place to stop this descent. No spousal visa, no ancestry visa, no British passport, no job, no sponsorship. It will be over. O-V-E-R.

It seems my friends and work colleagues are sadder about this than I am. The truth about itchy feet is that once you give them a scratch they just become .... itchier.

I have a friend who planned an eight week Contiki trip around Europe (visiting something like 101 countries) just to, in her own words, "get it out of her system." Now, she's talking about Russia, Africa and volunteering trips teaching kids English in third world countries.

I am the same. I have learnt that we don't need to be sad about the journeys that are finished, we can become excited about the ones that are about to start.

This is just the beginning.

You know you live in a big city when...

1. You're constantly on the offensive. Strangers will irritate you, everybody is incompetent and nothing is working as efficiently as it should. You start getting your fighting elbows ready even before you tap in on your Oyster card.

2. You're constantly late. Time speeds up, everything and everybody else is running late too. Punctuality is a quaint notion.

3. You're constantly busy. Staying home is incomprehensible. Home is for showering and sleeping. You look forward to a quiet night in which terminates at approximately 11pm when the boredom sets in.

4. You're constantly broke. See number 3.

5. You're constantly cooing at any patch of grass bigger than your bedroom. "Ooh look at the park it's so pretty and GREEN." Whatever happened to green?

6. You're no longer shockable. Everything is the norm, nothing is scary or superlative. The girl with the blue hair isn't crazy or cutting edge, she's a smurf riding the tube. The guy with the pick-axes tattooed on his cheeks isn't scary, he's hilarious. And probably a bit emo.

7. The possibility of doing anything you want at any time of the day is no longer thrilling, it's life.

8. You get carsick anytime you catch a cab and no longer miss driving down motorways.

9. You buy self-sufficient potted plants - for the windowsill, and are constantly scouting for more.

10. You're no longer afraid of getting lost.

11. You start referring to the city as your home and look forward to seeing it after every weekend away.

Paris

Believe it or not, this is Paris. My dad visited me in London in April and so for his birthday I got us tickets on the Eurostar to Paris for three nights.

I have to say, April was a perfect time to visit, it wasn't too hot and spring was approaching so the parks were absolutely brimming with beautiful flowers.

Dad, as you can see, was enarmoured with France's vehicles.

Despite being afraid of heights Dad braved it up the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower (my second time up the tower which is really bordering on greedy for me) .We also visited the Sacre Couer, Moulin Rouge, Champs de Elysee, the Louvre and Notre Dame.

In Montmartre one of the French buskers began playing a Finn brother's song which was rather hilarious and appropriate at the same time.

Paris is one of the few cities in the world that I could return to again, and again, and again.

Barcelona

This is what I love about alleyways. You find cute boutiques (L) and you find the soul of a city (R).

Mel and I were very, very hungover on this day (we had spent the previous night in Ibiza). We spent several hours sleeping in our air conditioned room after getting off our flight and then set out for a long, long walk around Barcelona's streets.

After this photo was taken, a few paces away, a guy on a bike sped past an elderly woman and ripped the necklace off her neck.

Later, Mel and I went and got a sandwich from a local bakery and sat in a small square and people watched.

New Zealand

Put simply, this is my favorite place in the world. The only way I can describe it is that that when I'm at this beach my heart is happy.

Sydney

Evidence of my inability to sit still- going home for a two week holiday in New Zealand also involved a weekend trip to Sydney to see my little brother. I hadn't been to Sydney before.

Within half an hour of stepping off the plane Mark drove us to Bondi Beach.

I cannot exaggerate enough the pure exquisitness of seeing blue skies and beautiful beaches. I decided I was moving to Sydney about five minutes before this photo was taken.

Madrid

This is Cine Dore, an old theatre run beside Spain's national film library. My assignment was to go and take a few photos, maybe grab some pamphlets. It took me about half an hour to find the place and it was situated behind a high road in a somewhat suburban area which is always a pleasure to visit in another country (see if the grass is really greener).

Sadly, by the time I found the place I realised it wasn't open until 5.30pm. Still not realising I was actually visiting a theatre , I came back after a few glasses of vino tinto at a nearby cafe, to find a looong queue snaked around the building. Out of morbid curiosity I too queued up, not believing that this many people had come to see a library. And of course they hadn't. The filmoteque sold tickets to evening screenings of old films for two euro. Sensing a bargain of course I paid, only to find I was watching a Russian film with Spanish subtitles.

I ended up falling asleep (the wine had done me over), and only woke because my own snoring was so loud.

In my defense, sightseeing all day is really tiring.