*STRETCH*
I've been subject to Lj paralysis for a while.
I packed all my things. It was tough (EMPTYING the guest room, which I've lived existed in for the last five years), but I got it done.
There are plenty of things I will miss about being in America. I will miss Hartford, which became "my" Hartford somewhere along the way-- the child that's mediocre to everyone except its parent. I loved the Connecticut river with a deep, abiding love, and I will probably think of it mournfully for the rest of my life. I cannot even write about the castle.
I miss Staples, and the skinny, hollow-cheeked boy who photocopied my postcards.
I went to Boston, to see arcady before I left. We did a ton of marvelous things, all the sort of things I usually love: shops, art galleries, Salem... it was a well-realized send-off. I did think seriously about making an entry on the subject, but reasoned that anyone who could possibly want to know about it would find out in alternate ways.
I returned to the house in Chester, and saw my boxes off ($1,300+ FTW). My mover was a curious fellow - his hobby was making bookmarks. We talked about education and literature, and when he told me he'd dropped out of school, I quoted Twain, and said "never let your schooling interfere with your education!" Later, he asked who my favorite writer, and (though I probably should have said "Milton"), I immediately asked "Have you heard of Samuel Johnson?" The next day, he appeared at my house and gave me two Mark Twain bookmarks, and two Samuel Johnson ones. Just because.
THEN, arcady came to see me in CT, for the last three days of my time in America. I am pleased to say I managed to take her to the Mark Twain House, though there were other failures I'm still sore over (fucking steam train, what was the point of closing for a month?). And then, once she had returned to Boston, my stepmother cooked lamb dinner and tried to make it seem as though my departure was significant.
I was going to take Connecticut Limo to the airport (three hours, but minimum effort for everyone else). My stepmother, rather, thought it might be nice if she, my father, my sister and me went to spend the day in New York. This was a silly idea for a couple of reasons. I already had at least five hours journey ahead of me, so walking around first would add to the exhaustion. Additionally, as soon became clear, everything in the city closes down on a Monday... we ended up going to the Neue Galerie (Austrian and German art) featuring Klimt and Egon Schiele, which was interesting, though really just more of what I'd seen in Austria.
Then I flew out. It seems like a sort of dream... that I was ever there to begin with. Half a decade gone like a transient dark cloud.
I face a couple of problems over here. No bank account, and no job. First step: call the Inland Revenue for proof of my identity as a subject of the Crown. After that, I can open a bank account, and then - finally - apply for work. My mother wants me to apply at the Parliamentary Palace as a tour guide, and though I think it'd be fun I am very ill qualified. Better, I think, would be the Sherlock Holmes Museum. BUT, I will take almost anything. So I could go into retail, or cleaning, here in Barnet.
My family in England, at least, seem pleased to see me. I caught up with some friends yesterday, and they kindly paid for my meal (eurgh, I haven't changed my money yet and cannot spend a penny 'til I do). I am aware of the fact that my welcome has a sell-by date, and that I must find my own rooms before February, but things keep falling in my way... at least my CV is on its way. Already I am ITCHING for occupation... being without it day after day feels unnatural, and I am ridden with guilt over what feels like laziness. The Christmas season should create job openings, and if only I can be quick about it I can get one of them.
Oh yes! And today was of course, English Remembrance Sunday, which - because of its date - I haven't partaken of for five years. I know I shouldn't have enjoyed it, but I did! The pageantry, and seeing the Queen, all comforted me.
I'm glad I'm back.
I packed all my things. It was tough (EMPTYING the guest room, which I've lived existed in for the last five years), but I got it done.
There are plenty of things I will miss about being in America. I will miss Hartford, which became "my" Hartford somewhere along the way-- the child that's mediocre to everyone except its parent. I loved the Connecticut river with a deep, abiding love, and I will probably think of it mournfully for the rest of my life. I cannot even write about the castle.
I miss Staples, and the skinny, hollow-cheeked boy who photocopied my postcards.
I went to Boston, to see arcady before I left. We did a ton of marvelous things, all the sort of things I usually love: shops, art galleries, Salem... it was a well-realized send-off. I did think seriously about making an entry on the subject, but reasoned that anyone who could possibly want to know about it would find out in alternate ways.
I returned to the house in Chester, and saw my boxes off ($1,300+ FTW). My mover was a curious fellow - his hobby was making bookmarks. We talked about education and literature, and when he told me he'd dropped out of school, I quoted Twain, and said "never let your schooling interfere with your education!" Later, he asked who my favorite writer, and (though I probably should have said "Milton"), I immediately asked "Have you heard of Samuel Johnson?" The next day, he appeared at my house and gave me two Mark Twain bookmarks, and two Samuel Johnson ones. Just because.
THEN, arcady came to see me in CT, for the last three days of my time in America. I am pleased to say I managed to take her to the Mark Twain House, though there were other failures I'm still sore over (fucking steam train, what was the point of closing for a month?). And then, once she had returned to Boston, my stepmother cooked lamb dinner and tried to make it seem as though my departure was significant.
I was going to take Connecticut Limo to the airport (three hours, but minimum effort for everyone else). My stepmother, rather, thought it might be nice if she, my father, my sister and me went to spend the day in New York. This was a silly idea for a couple of reasons. I already had at least five hours journey ahead of me, so walking around first would add to the exhaustion. Additionally, as soon became clear, everything in the city closes down on a Monday... we ended up going to the Neue Galerie (Austrian and German art) featuring Klimt and Egon Schiele, which was interesting, though really just more of what I'd seen in Austria.
Then I flew out. It seems like a sort of dream... that I was ever there to begin with. Half a decade gone like a transient dark cloud.
I face a couple of problems over here. No bank account, and no job. First step: call the Inland Revenue for proof of my identity as a subject of the Crown. After that, I can open a bank account, and then - finally - apply for work. My mother wants me to apply at the Parliamentary Palace as a tour guide, and though I think it'd be fun I am very ill qualified. Better, I think, would be the Sherlock Holmes Museum. BUT, I will take almost anything. So I could go into retail, or cleaning, here in Barnet.
My family in England, at least, seem pleased to see me. I caught up with some friends yesterday, and they kindly paid for my meal (eurgh, I haven't changed my money yet and cannot spend a penny 'til I do). I am aware of the fact that my welcome has a sell-by date, and that I must find my own rooms before February, but things keep falling in my way... at least my CV is on its way. Already I am ITCHING for occupation... being without it day after day feels unnatural, and I am ridden with guilt over what feels like laziness. The Christmas season should create job openings, and if only I can be quick about it I can get one of them.
Oh yes! And today was of course, English Remembrance Sunday, which - because of its date - I haven't partaken of for five years. I know I shouldn't have enjoyed it, but I did! The pageantry, and seeing the Queen, all comforted me.
I'm glad I'm back.