Pulling up Steaks

Well, this is it. My passport and work permit have arrived in my grubby little hands. After a four week tour of Washington, Dallas, Frankfurt, Tripoli, back to Washington and returning to London, my passport has an additional 25,000 frequent flier miles and a work permit visa neatly stamped inside. My flat has been packed for two weeks and I have been living out of a suitcase just waiting for the elusive book to appear. But appear it did on Thusday. I am now planning to leave this winter wonder for new experiences in a warmer clime. I took my final tour of the town today - but it was pretty quiet. The farmers are all snowed in, and the town square where they set up barren, save for the kids sliding on the frozen pavement. Leaving in the midst of the snowfall of the century for London makes the transistion easier. I will miss the British Culture - the bad beef, Indian, TexMex and Thai restaurants, the silent queing for surley service, the frozen, unsmiling faces of passers by.
But all is not sullen, for I have wonderful memories. The EPsom Playhouse, the Farmer's markets, outstanding West End shows, Visits of friends and family, the museums, Convent Garden, St. Pauls, the smells, the sounds of a vibrant, cosmopolitan city. To London, to Epsom, I say farewell. For I am now off to pitch my tent on the south shores of the Mediterranean.