How Time Flies: London Living and Missing Home

by Mary McFadden

The new year has long since started and my procrastinating is beginning to catch up with me. I only have about 4 weeks of classes left until I’m finished my MA degree in Magazine Journalism; very soon I’ll have so much time on my hands I won’t know what to do with myself. One of my resolutions for 2015 was to maintain my blog – so I’m going to try and be more regular with posts.

Now is as good a time as any to try to keep up with it! Perhaps it’ll help focus my thoughts and distract me from my desire to hop on the next plane and jet back to Ireland. Unfortunately, despite its appeal, London can be very lonely sometimes and I’m a shameless home bird.

I love Ireland and I miss it all the time. It’s easy to want to explore other countries and fantasise about settling down in an obscure Parisian village where I’d eat cheese and drink wine until my happy death, but reality is a lot trickier. It would be wonderful if I could pick up my loved ones, pack them in a suitcase and bring them with me, but that’s not the way things work. People have their own lives and dreams and goals and they’re unlikely to match up exactly with mine, which is something I have to come to terms with.

I’ve watched ‘Friends’ so many times I could recite whole episodes by heart, but after the tenth do-over of the series you start to realise that what the friends have is very far from what most people have in real life – I’d have to be very lucky to be living within walking distance from my best friends when I’m older.

I’m sure I’ll come to love London too, but for now I’ll keep dreaming of all my favourite Irish haunts. Like walking down Grafton Street early in the morning before the shops open with a cup of Bewleys tea, on my way to St. Stephen’s Green with a good book. Or walking along the water at Portsalon beach in the evening. Or stumbling along the cobblestones of Temple Bar after a good night out at Workman’s with some of the best people in the world…

 

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