I've been in London almost six months now, although ten weeks of those six months have been spent overseas.
I love it here. Even though I've not been living the life or seizing
every opportunity that comes along, even though I've been working too
much and playing too many video games and falling prey to the strange
house-bound inertia that beset my ancestors, even with all that, I love
this city and feel at home here in a way that I never felt in Sydney.
It is a long way from home though. The time difference makes it
difficult to talk with family and friends. I wish I could see my niece
Tilly more often – she looks so much bigger in every photo. I've also
watched a parade of births and birthdays of close friends go past
without waving hello or telling them how much I care.
This is all a bit maudlin, for which I'm sorry. Knowing my own faults
does not transmute them to virtues, and telling you my faults will not
serve as an apology for the hurts they have caused.
What can one do but try to change?