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?

Rabbiting on about lists

There's now less than a week before I leave Edinburgh. Tomorrow I begin my final week of working at Royal London. Almost all the key milestones of the Big Move have been struck. Suddenly, my flight to London Stanstead is getting dangerously close.

In the last week or so since I posted here, a lot has happened:

• I moved out of our flat of almost three years in Roseburn
• I moved into a flat in Leith with my friend Catriona
• I befriended a bunny rabbit called Honey
• I drank whisky (on the rocks, not neat - I'm not that brave yet)
• I wrote my final Drowned in Scotland article
• I watched my boss captain a dragonboat down Leith Docks
  
• I said my first goodbye.

This week, my pre-departure date itinerary is equally expansive:

• Have a final pint with fellow scribe/music cynic Nick Mitchell
• Work on handover notes for my current job
• Read handover notes for my new job
• Meet some old work colleagues for lunch
• Absolutely gut my work desk - a task which will probably include two years worth of cleaning and scrubbing
• Leave my flat in Leith and say goodbye to Catriona and Honey
  
• Move into Johanna's flat in Dalry
  
• Take current work colleagues out for leaving night bevvy
• Meet age-old friends in Calistoga for d-day lunch/wine/cheesecake
• Get a flight from Edinburgh to London Stanstead
  
• Move into my new life

In some ways, writing it down like this makes it look a lot more manageable. But I'm pretty sure I'll be running around like some sort of headless lunatic for the duration of the next six days. As much as I'll be sad to leave Edinburgh, I really cannot wait for this whole episode to be over.

Almost, but not quite...

We're almost there. After four months and lord knows how much stress, we finally moved all our belongings (well, bar a suitcase worth of clothes) from Auld Reekie to Colchester.

It took three hours of loading a van, eight hours of driving a van and another two hours of unloading a van before our ordeal was over. But, now, it's done. Finito.

My current flat in Edinburgh is barer than the torso of a publicity seeking reality TV star. But there's something reassuringly empty about it. The echoic silence signifies the calm after the storm of the last few weeks.

In one week, I leave my flat. In two weeks and two days, I leave my job. In two weeks and three days, I leave Edinburgh for good. The count is going down...

Photos from moving day*







* Taken on my camera phone because I've had to leave my D700 in Colchester.

You've got to get yourself a wee jobby, son...*

On the day I discovered Bert and Ernie’s courtship will never jet-boost beyond platonic, I accepted a job offer in London.

It’s an odd connection, admittedly, but there is a tenuous link between the two. Both were possibilities I never thought would really happen: One did. One didn’t. Sadly for Jim Henson’s finest and most convivial creations, I handed in my resignation yesterday.

It’s a strange feeling. On one hand, It’s the greening of new pastures; the end of job hunting, Skyping and cooking for one. But, on the other paw, I’ve just signed the release clause from the city I love. A place I’ve built a life, friends, reputation and career in the twelve years since I scuffled down from the very northern tip of Scotland.

It’s going to take some acclimatising. A 50 minute train journey in and out of London is going to feel like a life time in comparison to my normal 10 minute bus trip from just outside our meagre one bedroom flat on Murrayfield. While London, for all its places of intrigue, doesn’t have the rose-tinted allure of Edinburgh for me – yet.

Today, in preparation for the Big Move, I’ve been boxing up all our mounds of stuff. It’s incredible just how much tat/crap/Su’s clothing we’ve accumulated in the three years we’ve lived here. We came to this flat with just a couple of suitcases each and a few boxes. We’re leaving it with a van crammed to the rafters. God knows what it will look like when we eventually leave Colchester.

But this is an exciting time. It’s only really been a month since Su left, yet it has felt like a lifetime in terms of stress levels. Finally I feel like I’m getting my life back in to some semblance of order. Thank God.

As for Bert and Ernie, well, who knows what the future holds. Marriage might not be on the cards, but at least they’ve still got each other.

Here's a picture from just outside my soon-to-be new place of work.

*It's something my gran once said to me when I was 15. It still makes me laugh today

D Day (D is for decision, by the way)

Today is the day I've finally made the decision. Not that it fills me with any sense of satisfaction, the trepidation is still there, but it's easier functioning knowing what the future holds, instead of not having the faintest impression of where you're going to be in one month, nevermind six.

I could call it an exit strategy, but it's not. This is a blind leap. There's a certain thrill in not knowing where you're going to land (apart from Colchester, obviously) and the prospect of falling knee-deep into something new tingles with an edginess I'm not particularly familiar with.

So from the sedate, to the shaken I go. Bring on September.

Is 'The Big Move' really so big?

Today, I applied for my first job proper (I’ve applied for others but more out of desperation than actual want) in London as part of ‘The Big Move’.

Considering I’ve spent the past week or so freaking out about having to migrate South in the very near future, this is the most calm and positive I’ve felt about everything.

The fear of having to uproot from all I know has been playing on my mind a lot since Su got a new job in Ipswich. Trying to focus at work has been almost impossible and I’m pretty sure my boss thought I was having some sort of internal micro-breakdown without actually displaying it to the outside world. If so, she’d have been pretty close to the truth.

But a day off, an impressively enduring hangover and a very long and sweaty run seems to have flicked a switch of realisation: This could, in actual fact, be a very good move for me, both personally and for my career. If the right job comes along, then moving to Suffolk may well be the best thing I ever do (apart from, y’know, the getting married thing).

So far, I’m noticing that life is already feeling very different. I have absolutely no knowledge of the South of England - neither the way it works transport-wise or the just where things are (who knew Cambridge was so close to Colchester?)- so I'm having to read a lot of maps to figure out if potential journeys are doable.

And looking for jobs without the security of s1jobs.com feels a lot like slipping on a new pair of Converse after wearing my previous pair every day for a year straight i.e. slightly unstable and confident I’m going to trip up at every point.

But, I’m getting there. And once I’m actually ‘there’ I’m fairly confident things will work out, even if I do have to fathom living in a country where bars close at 11pm . So for now, I’ll just try and enjoy everything a city that’s been my home for 11 years has to offer. One thing I know is, I'll definitely miss Auld Reekie.