England... I forgot you somehow...

I left London 6 years ago, and landed in New York with a couple of suitcases, a new job and what appeared to be a sea of new experiences to have, people to meet and a new life to explore. I never really looked back... I wasn't really happy in London. I didn't enjoy my job that much (especially not the pittance it paid), I didn't really know anyone, and didn't know how to meet people, couldn't afford to do much more than work and eat. I did live in a great house, with wonderful people, but at the same time I missed my mum, sister and brother who were in California, my on/off boyfriend who was back in Colombia (is boyfriend really the word? I don't know anymore), and all my friends in France and Israel. I missed the sunshine and the desert, the "real" coffee, the long nights... I was lucky to have the rest of my family in England, and made regular trips up to Empingham to be with my Nana and Aunt, but I was too restless for London at the time, too full of anger at not being able to live in the US, too full of not knowing what I wanted to do with my life.

New York swallowed me up. A lot happened over the space of 6 years, some of it covered very openly, or more discreetly, in this blog. But now I feel like it has spit me out, the same person, a little older, a little wiser, but with a lot more hindsight, and also, foresight.

I finally went back to England last week for 6 days. 3 days for work, 3 days for myself. It was quite a revelation, in a sense. Everything is still in segmented phrases in my head for now, so that is how I am going to portray it here...

I love London. The buildings, the Tube, the smell of the soap, the parks... The politeness of living in England. Yes, people DO stand to the right on elevators, and wait for people to get off the train before they get on, however busy the platform is. Fruit pastilles. Chips and mushy peas late in the evening.
The countryside... Rutland. The green of the land, thatched roofs, The White Horse and Sunday Lunch. Jacket Potatoes and long conversations with Auntie Louise. Home.
The proximity of the rest of Europe and the idea that Paris IS only a short flight or train ride away.
Charlie and Cristi and Lynn not far - why were we not all such close friends before I moved? Would I have moved if we had been? (Probably, but I still wonder).
QUIET. The ability to actually sit in a pub and have a conversation with people who are not off their faces on something.
People who have known me since I was born. Family. REAL news on television. Really, really old things. Israel being only a 5 hour flight away.

There are more. Just let me get my thoughts together properly. Sometimes I see everything through the opposite of rose-tinted glasses, and I feel like I spent my time in London looking through grey-tinted glasses 6 years ago. Now I have more perspective...

Back later.

The Past is the Present is the Future

I often feel nostalgic and remember stories from the past. I think of those people who were once part of my life and who have now disappeared, off into their own lives, living happily ever after (I hope). I often imagine what these people may or may not be doing, making up stories and wondering if I will ever cross paths with them again. Of course, not all the people I ever met in my life, but those who were part of it in some significant way or another.

Before the age of the internet, I would probably have never seen, or heard from these people again. With the amount of times that I have moved, and also the fact that I changed my surname back to my father's surname the day my mother divorced my stepfather, it would have been impossible for people to find me. In any case, where would you look? In a phone book? Where would you start?

But nowadays we have all the means in the world. Type in someones full name in Facebook, and if they are on there you are bound to find them. Do a few searches on Friendfinder, or other, and you will probably find old school friends. Who will then tell you what became of so and so, etc etc. For a long time I had wondered what had happened to my dad's friend Denton. In the mid 80's he was the lead singer of the band The Janitors, and one year my dad took us to Sunderland with them, when they were on tour. I really really wanted to find him again, and felt like I had looked all over... And this year we found him on Facebook.

Another friend recently found me on Facebook, and I found another, very old high school friend through a French school site. It makes me so happy to rediscover and get to know these people again. These are people who knew me growing up, who saw me become who I am today. People who are not only interested in what I have been doing over the past 10-15 years, but who are also interested in WHY I did this, and decided to do that. And I feel the same way about them.

This all makes me so happy. It's honestly been a saving grace for me over the past few months. I may live in the past, but it is definitely part of my present and will follow me into my fture.