Going back to the UK this year seems like the most stupid thing of possibly many stupid things I've done in my life. I'm not sure there will be a UK that I recognise. It will be mainly Spam, and all the roundabouts in Slough will be given over to crops. People will wander about shouting spit about getting THERE CUNTRY BACK. There will be no medication to speak of. If you get a headache you'll have to chew a willow tree.
But I want to go back. I feel like my poor stupid fucking country needs me. Of course, it doesn't, but that makes me feel noble.
It actually feels harder than moving to Brussels seven years ago. I'm a lot older. No wiser. Although I do know about Google docs now. And I know more French. Somehow I have to remake another life there. "There" being an unspecified destination that could be London, York, Leeds, Bristol, Bath, Brighton, Edinburgh, or Croydon. Yeah, maybe not Croydon.
Perhaps I should move to the place with the most willow trees.
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