The Final Countdown

Fear not, I’m not about to start singing some old 80s pop number (I don’t think my workmates would like it). Rather, this is merely rumination on my impending return visit to the UK for the first time since I left, nearly 13 months ago. AS I sit here writing this, there are 11 days left before the day itself – ten as of tomorrow – and to say I am looking forward to it would be an understatement indeed. To say that I am, in fact, counting the hours rather than the days would be closer to the mark but, fear not, as I’ve not gotten that obsessive just yet. Nearly, but not quite.

Y’see, whilst I like it over here in the US – very much so – this has, for me, been the longest time away from the UK (obviously) and away from family. I can’t think what the longest I have gone without seeing my parents is (or even my brother; kidding, Andrew) – certainly a lot less than a year, maybe even less than six months (I’d like to think so). Okay, so it’s not like I’ve had no communication whatsoever – the world is, after all, a lot smaller place these days. But the phone is the phone; hell, even video chatting is just video chatting. It’s a poor substitute for being in the same place as a person, even just the same country. And there is a certain something about the UK that I miss and, as the time grows nearer, I can feel myself anticipating more. So that’s 240 hours and countin…