Mecca

I was strangely apathetic in the lead-up to The Big Leaving this time around. There were no heartstopping "what the fuck am I doing" moments, no wild flights of fancy, nothing. Moving in to an inter-collegiate hall of residence? Whatever, it's just another TCS. All the same emphases on getting involved, on an international atmosphere, on the alumni community, same ivy-covered brick walls, blah blah blah. Been there, done that. Heading to spend a year in one of the world's cities? A global centre? Yeah, just got back from Buenos Aires. Paris of the South, baby. More people than London. Yawn. Saying good bye to all the friends and family once more? Yeah, been doing that for nine years, and already made the big break with home back in May, so this time around was nothing. Off to become a hellfire radical at a world renowned university? They mock the LSE a lot on Yes Minister. It sounds like it's right up my alley, but it's also not like I don't have some pretty amazing educational experiences behind me also. I am a very lucky person.

In fact, it wasn't until I was reading a sheet of tips and advice from a dear and thoughtful friend who lived in this hall last year that I suddenly got an inkling of what this all would mean. In it she mentioned the Globe Theatre, and English Major Sarah jerked awake. What? The Globe? You mean, the Globe? Like, Shakespeare's Globe?

Like the actual ground on which Will walked?

Obviously I knew it was all there, but it didn't really hit me until she said make sure you go to the Globe. It was like following the Raptors for years at Trinity and Queen's and then, years later, actually going to see a game at the Air Canada Centre. You couldn't believe they were down there running around on that court, real people, not just characters on TV. When I read Jennygarl's advice, all of a sudden, I realised. I'm going to England. Hardy's England. Chaucer's England. Arthur Conan Doyle's England. T. S. Eliot worked for a couple of decades just off Russell Square - had I just done this 40 years ago we could have been neighbours. Well, sort of. Could you even imagine having T. S. Eliot as your neighbour? George Orwell lived here. George Eliot. The Bronte sisters, Charles Dickens, Christopher Marlowe.

It's been two years since I left Queen's - wait, no it hasn't. It's been three. Good grief. And now I'm about to embark on my Diet Coke version of International Relations - more economics and politics (and of course history) and sociology and cultural studies and so on. Then hopefully some more journalism at the end of it all.

But, study what I might, do what I will, I will always be an English Major at heart. So coming to London, to England - this is my mecca. This is my Graceland.

What a nerd. I obviously can't give this blog address to anyone in England cuz no one will want to be friends with such a nerd.

Which brings me to the point: I'm in England!