The Unimportance of Being Earnest.

Day 12, Thursday 29th March 2018

Writing first thing every morning is lovely feeling, like a cool breeze brushing against my face in the early summer morning on a hot day, the windows are open but the air hasn’t yet been heated so it’s crisp, fresh and bright. Days like that feel so perfect that I wonder how anyone could ever tire of them. Having lived my entire life in the UK, I’ve never had a chance to test out my limits of tolerance for such a situation.

Why do I live in the UK anyway? Habit seems the most appropriate answer, I’m here because it’s where I was yesterday. As my life develops, turning fourty last year, it becomes ever more alluring to pack my bags and leave for another country. An ingrained desire to settle down, have kids and get a dog had always festered inside me, you know, the old nonsense story of conventional society that seems to be incredibly easy to assume is THE path in life, whilst being incredibly hard to attain along with maintaining a happy perspective on life.

I’ve never lived abroad, the longest holiday was three months in South East Asia and that was a mid-twenties, ninety-day party. I’ve never travelled west, only east, to many countries on the strata between Calais and Lombok. America is calling me, unsure what I’ll do there, or why I need to go, but the country is hollering…