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?