I Live in Canada Now
Good evening, as of yesterday, I now live in Canada. I have designs on writing a large series along the lines of “The UK, A Retrospective 2011-2022” for the benefit of absolutely nobody other than myself. But for now, I live in Canada.
The rest of the family flew here last Tuesday. On Wednesday, I went out after work for drinks for the first time in months. On Thursday, I went out after work for drinks for the second time in two days. The whole thing very much wiped me out. Alcohol ruins my sleep. Friday I was working. Saturday morning I popped out and ran a marathon. I had a stretch goal of doing 50km, but once I got into the high 30s, my body was breaking down so I capped it off at 42.3, just beside Blackfriars station and got the train home. My old commute. I got the largest fish and chips I could find in the city, two Ritter Sport bars, and watched Man Utd getting thrashed on TV. Later that night I could barely keep my eyes open. Gamin’s impressively accurate “Body Battery”, which would normally end the day with me on about 35-40% saw me at 7%. In amongst all this was cleaning, cleaning, throwing things away, giving things away, performing dark magic rituals to make things disappear so I don’t have to worry about them any more, worrying obsessively about selling the flat, getting my PR card, getting rid of more stuff and cleaning. Monday the cats were whisked away. Tuesday the cot, high chair, baby bath and nappy bin were whisked away. Wednesday every single other item in my possession was carefully wrapped, boxed up and, yes, whisked away.
On Thursday I left behind a completely empty flat, handed the keys to the estate agent and got the train to Heathrow.
So yeah, now I live in Toronto. Not clear what’s next.