Left a good job in the city

Going back to London in particular always feels a bit strange. It is one of the world’s great cities, there are places that I love to visit, and I feel a tug to return for good whenever I am there. It always feels that it holds so much promise, and I miss it. This feeling of missing London is one that I have had before, and having considered it at length, I am pretty sure that what I actually miss is my (relative) youth, of which I spent a fair chunk in London. The town just reminds me of the time. I’m not homesick, I’m just old.
You can’t go back, at least not in that sense.

I’ve just got back from 3 weeks in the UK visiting friends & family and going to a wedding. It gave me a chance to catch up on the all the British things I miss (as well as friends). I met lots of kids that I had not seen for a while, or, - in many cases – ever. I also noticed a lot of things that have changed. There seem to be more trucks on the roads, which all seem to have lower speed limits, and certainly more speed cameras. There are more magpies for some reason, which is a pain if you are superstitious (I blame my Gran). There are now more coffee shops than decent pubs, which is a minor tragedy, and probably a sign of something.
The news somehow seems more significant in the UK, perhaps because the reporting is better. I found I needed a good 40 minutes a day just to read the paper, and that doesn’t include the Sudoku. France rejected the EU constitution while I was there, to general British approval: as my Dad remarked “They owe us a few favours”.
So now back in Cape Town, where it is pissing it down, and I have finished the last bit of the pork pie I smuggled through customs. I find that I feel less out of place here than I did in the UK. I still feel a bit out of place here too, though – is this a peril of emigration? Nobody tells you about this stuff.