Festive times...

Goodbye 2012, hello 2013. It's hard to believe that we're starting a new year all over again, isn't it? The last 12 months seem to have flown in and, I dare say, the next 12 will do the same. Hopefully this will be a year that's got a little more stability to it than last year. There seemed to be so much tumult until I left London for Essex that it was difficult to keep our feet on the ground. After that though, it was strangely - and rather worryingly - plain sailing.

Anyway, I've not made any resolutions this year. I've been eating healthier, drinking less and exercising more over the last few months so I can't see me having to improve in those departments. On the "real" work front, I'll be spending much of the next year adding a few strings to the bow that is my CV before I consider taking the next step up. On the "unreal" work front, I'm planning on extending my writing opportunities and making time for an outlet that's both creative and cathartic for me.

Now we've got that out of the way, here's a few snapshots of my last few weeks of celebrating my birthday, Christmas and New Year. Needless to say, I'll be putting in a few extra miles when pounding pavementsover the next few weeks to work off some of the gluttony.

London loves...

Well, it's almost been a week. Yep, that's right, seven whole days have passed since I moved from my safe, homely Edinburgh town to the big bad world of England. And, y'know what, it's not that bad. Well, it's not dreadful, let's put it that way.

Living in Colchester and working in London is far from ideal. The daily commute is a drag. Realising you've sat next to the same person on the same train twice in one week is foreboding. And dealing with the pressure of having to fathom out an alternative shirt/tie combo every day is darn right debilitating at 6am in the morning.

In truth, I'm a little homesick. But, I'm not quite sure what for. How much of Edinburgh I'd trade for Essex/London is impossible to say. The homeliness of Auld Reekie probably has a lot to do with it. The fact I lived there for almost 12 years is probably even more significant.

Yet, London is not without its charms. Firstly, the people I work with are exceptional. Not just in a 'wow they're great people, I can't wait to know them better' kind of way, but in a way that makes you sit up, take stock and admire their purpose. So far, it's been impossible not to sponge up.

Secondly, the city is mental for boozing. I mean, really properly mental. These people may be garbed in tailormade D&G suits, but they'll happily guzzle a few snifters of piss-pale ale by the side of Monument as the wind away the stresses of another full throttle day.

And, full throttle it is. These people, these places do not stop. Our work canteen is open from 8am - 9pm. That's breakfast through to supper. Here 9-5 isn't the way to make a living. It's much much more than that. Thank heavens no one works on overtime - the country would be bust.

So, it's exhausting. And a bit galling. Yet, it sucks you in. The place is alive: The traffic. The people. The buildings. Even the smog. This is a city that breathes energy; that seeps gusto. You can't, in all honesty, help yourself from being swept along. I'm trying desperately hard to go with the flow.

It's over. It's just beginning.

I'm finally here. After all the months of crazed panic, I'm writing this blog post sitting in my spacious Colchester flat being entertained by the footballing majesty that is Fulham v Blackburn Rovers.

It's been a long slog, and the last week of goodbyes was exhausting. Leaving was never going to be easy - I love the sights and sounds of Edinburgh - and leaving so many friends only amplified my melancholy.

But that was yesterday. Today, I've been settling into my new life. I've forked out a few hundred smackers on clothes for my new vocation in London town and I've spent the equivalent of an annual Edinburgh bus pass on one month's travel to and from the UK's Capital city.

So this week will be an experience. I'm excited to be working in a different environment and with different people. Compared to two years ago when I started my first job in internal communications, I'm more confident about where my future lies. The skills are all there - now I just need to show these London-types what I can do. Easy, eh?

Standing in not so good stead

I don't mean to boast (and honestly I really don't), but my carbon footprint is getting bigger every week. In the last month and a half I've been on eight flights. After Wednesday I'll have another two stubs to add to by burgeoning collection of EasyJet tickets. Having a wife, as well as my preferred job market, based hundreds of miles away certainly doesn't do anything for the environment.

Given its proximity to my Colchester abode, London Stanstead is my plane station (calling them airports just seems so drab) of choice. It is, in every sense, a hell hole. The third busiest airport in the UK it may be, but Stanstead does a good job of resembling a dysfunctional sheep's pen.

Dead-eyed security wardens shepherd travellers into an uncoordinated, never ending drove; lager-sodden Ryanair hoards jetsetting it to Alicante pass voluble judgement on less loutish explorers; while air-conditioning is only a daydream in this perspiring people-coup of adventureless air travel (there's no transatlantic flights, hence the perceived lack of adventure).

As a child I used to find just the thought of an airport a thrill. A congregation of people gearing up to take flight to unexplored destinations was wholly ambitious and aspirational. But Stanstead has killed that. It has no joy within its monochromatic casing; no goose-flesh to its practical but wholly prosaic skin. London Stanstead is the embodiment of a modern airport. A place to get from A to B. Maybe I'm wrong to expect something more.

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Incidentally, I was in Colchester last weekend. Here's some pictures I took while I was there. My white balance was unknowingly set to fluorescent, so there's a slight blue tinge to my pictures. I've tried to touch them up in Photoshop but I'm afraid there' not much I can do to cover up such a rookie faux pas!