Tickets please!

Do you know who I won't miss when we leave London? The miserable man who works in the ticket office at our local station, that's who. Heaven forbid that man should actually speak to you, he has now added throwing your change at you to his repertoire. He doesn't do it quite so well as he does reading his paper and ignoring you - he dropped 5p of my change on the floor as he was hurling it towards me, amature - but I'm sure with all the practice he'll be getting, he'll have it perfected soon.

Leaving London. Part Two.

The last time we left London we went on an 8 month round the world trip. Vowing never to set foot in the Big Smoke again, after the final flight home we lasted two months with my parents before we panicked that our friends would forget us, and we came back. Three years later, we are older, wiser (we now know that our friends will visit us. Promise them fresh air and cake and these people will do anything) and moving the hell out again.

I have a new, fantastic job, working for the brand spanking new University Campus Suffolk and we're going to be living in Norwich (insert Alan Partridge joke here). Both Mr L and I are super excited, and despite my pleas for him not to pack everything up just yet, I came home tonight to a half empty kitchen. I have no idea where our coffee machine is, but I suspect it's in a box somewhere...

So, seven weeks today I will be closing my present library up for the last time. I'll be very sad to leave my job, after a rough-ish start I've grown to really love the library, my colleagues and the library members. Even the consultant who has more questions than the Spanish Inquisition. And after I've locked up the library, I'll head into town to the Knight's Templar where we held our last farewell, and as I'm downing my pitchers of Long Island Iced Tea (thanks Booky B) I'll be keeping my fingers crossed that this time we can stay away for good.

Or at least until December 12th when I see the Manics in Brixton.