On Home and London, Part 2

“I don't want to repeat my innocence. I want the pleasure of losing it again.”
“Writers aren’t people exactly. Or, if they’re any good, they’re a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person.” 
-F. Scott Fitzgerald


Hey all.

I'm currently writing you because I kind of feel like I have to. I'm exhausted, haven't had a proper night of sleep in days and I'm coming down with a stomach bug, so really, I just want to go to bed. But it's been a week since I left London, and it feels like I at least owe you guys a bit of an update. I don't know why--the people this blog was originally intended for are either here or on vacation and won't be reading these words anyway. Some of you London folk asked me to keep writing, so perhaps I should build on that.

So, Belgium. It's been kind of an odd week, with my parents leaving on a holiday as soon as I got home. I've been busy with work and searching for a place to live, so there's not really much to talk about. I'm moving into a place with a friend of mine, so I got to spend some time with him. We found a place in the centre of Leuven that's almost perfect, but when we went to check it out on Thursday we ran into an enormous traffic jam. We tried to cut through Bertem, which was a really bad idea, ended up losing over half an hour only to arrive at the exact same spot and missed our appointment. Luckily we got to come back Saturday morning, and tomorrow we'll know whether we got the place or not. 

That's pretty much it I guess :D I had dinner with my mum and spent the rest of the week working. No days off between now and the end of the month, so don't expect any crazy stories coming either. It's good though--I can use the money. Furniture is expensive.

I finally got my hands on the final collection of the letters of F. Scott Fitzgerald, called Dreams of Youth, and it's everything I had hoped it would be. If you like reading and you have a soul, I can't recommend it enough. The letters he wrote to his daughter while she was away at school and his wife who came down with mental illness are hauntingly beautiful, and not because he gets all sappy (he doesn't). It's an unbelieveable journey to explore the man's psyche, and see how his life and mental state progressed up until his death. 

The new Doctor Who premiered last night to godawful reviews, but I've yet to watch it. My Twitter timeline got flooded with messages while I was working but I managed to avoid major spoilers, so I'm stil pretty amped. Steven Moffat is taking a beating, but for some reason, I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I can't wait to see how Peter Capaldi portrays the Doctor, and where this season will lead us. Should be interesting.

The guys from work have also invited me to join their fantasy football league this year, and I'm a little scared. I understand football (quite well, in fact--I started as a football writer) but I have no clue how fantasy football works, and the draft is on Thursday. I'm guessing the draft in itself should be fine (I've tried reading up a bit and I still have a couple of days) but the whole midweek stuff is still complete gibberish to me. It's supposed to be fun, but I work as a sports writer--I really don't want to make a fool of myself. They've also warned me that it's insanely addictive, so we'll see how it goes.

As for London: It's hard not to miss a city like that. There's just so much to readjust to, but so far it's been smooth sailing (except for Monday. I was dying for a bagel with cream cheese. Good luck finding that in Niel). There's not much to miss about life in London, but the city itself is like no other. Obviously my final weeks there were amazing, as I filled those with plenty of great memories and good times with friends. It's probably why I really didn't want to leave when the day arrived, even though I'd been looking forward to coming back home for months. 

I don't know. Those last few weeks just made me realise how different it could have been, if only I had done one or two things differently. There were just too many variables working against me, and in the end, I knew I was going to return home at quite an early stage. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about all of this right now. I know that if one or two things had been different, I'd still be living in London, joyfully and with the full conviction that I made the right choice by moving. I want to say I have no regrets, but I'd be lying. 

That said, I'm happy with where I am right now. As soon as we get this appartement-stuff sorted and I can actually return to normality, I'm sure things will work out. And yes, I'll miss the streets of London. It truly is a beautiful place, unlike anything we have here in Belgium. But living in that city is an experience they'll never be able to take away from me. And I'm ready to add some new memories, in a more familiar setting.

If only we could teach the Belgians to speak English, the virtues of a tailored suit and how to stand on the right side of the escalator.

Take care everyone.


Song of the Day: TV on the Radio - Family Tree
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RMv_PuGHSGA