When I first came to live in England once again, just nine months ago, I had the most vulgar opinion of the country. Sure, it had given me a fantastic beginning to childhood; I’d camped by the seas of Whitby, and splashed in the puddles of the Yorkshire dales. I’d had picnics in parks and grown up watching blue peter when it was still showing three times a week. I didn’t hate the England that I used to love, but I feared that in the time I had been away, it would have changed.  What I now realise, is that change is constant.  I shouldn’t have feared a United Kingdom that was different as this is just the natural and obvious way of development but I was most naïve to believe that it could only have gotten worse.

I’m not going to sit here and type about how we are in a great state because as a country we are probably in one of our most dire recent times, but I will say that I have fallen once again in love with the place. Though somehow I feel tempted to say maybe it is specifically London that has stolen my heart, maybe it has been the energy boost I needed ….

I sat yesterday afternoon in a Bethnal Green Garden, watching the day fall asleep and the night awake. Perhaps the most quintessentially British thing to do, a glimmer of sun shone and suddenly there was a Barbeque – but this isn’t something to mock. Instead I believe it is something to inspire us to continue making the most of what we have. Full of good food and wholesome amounts of alcohol, a background playlist worthy of giving it a thumbs up or even two and the sound of chitter chatter as friends catch-up or newbies converse. Being one of the latter I used to think could be a daunting experience but what I realised last night was that the English charm, something now I have returned I realise I very much will have missed, would never let a stranger feel lost.

This will be my last Sunday in England. Though some sort of roast dinner does sound appealing, my surprisingly mild hangover has opted to snuggle in the duvet for as long as my guilty conscience will allow. I live in the big city, one of the capitals of the world perhaps, yet the minute I want to resort to my own space and time, I only have to unlock my door, sit on my bed, play a little music and there is no one that can barge in to me or my thoughts. It sounds silly, but this juxtaposition of the loud and the quiet, the scary world outside and the calm peace within; this is what I love about living here. Maybe I should be out making the most of the sights but the fact that I can choose to stay inside if I so wish means that London most truly now feels like home.

I will be dining at one of my favourite restaurants this evening; a little gallery, which could seat 10 people at most, whose kitchen consists of a man behind his counter, jabbering away so enthusiastically, passionately, about his food, his wine, his life story, and that of his best friends’ too. What seems so surreal is that this will be with three friends I met nearly two years ago in China. It makes me realise how small the world is. Yes, I have had moments this year when I have felt alone, but as I look back over my time here, I realise when you move to London there are other people that have done or are doing the same too. Never are you on your own even if you don’t realise it. I like to think the friends which I have met in London, at least for this year, have become part of a family.

I was scared of coming to London and maybe the following thought means I have not learnt, but somewhere inside of me there is now a little nervousness. Maybe I don’t want to leave…?