For H

You're flying to New York tomorrow, to a new job, a new life.

I'll miss you. We've had such fun in London, you and I.

Saying goodbye, yesterday evening in Kings Cross tube station, saying I'll see you....and then tailing off because this time the usual 'soon' isn't there, was hard.

Mid-hug, into your ear, I say

You're going to have an A-MAZING time. 

And I mean it, truly, picturing you drooling over these flowers, reading (and loving as much as I do) this blog, buying this soap, making these recipes (complete with sticks of butter and cups of flour, cilantro not coriander, arugula instead of rocket, eggplant to replace aubergine).

Drinking cocktails in this cocktail bar, which I still dream about. Walking the High Line in all seasons.

I want you to do all of the cliches, slices of pizza off paper plates, getting lost in the Met, the breathtaking views from Empire State and Rockefeller. And then go beyond the cliches, walking and breathing and discovering the city in a way that is only possible by fully living in it.

You're going to have an amazing time too you whisper back.

***

Yes...but there sure as hell won't be as many Reese's peanut butter cups where I'm going.

Conversations from a move

Mum: I've laid out some kitchen stuff, just take anything you think you might want.
Me: Okay, great, thanks.
[later]
Mum: You haven't taken the corn skewers!
Me: Um, not sure I'll need them where I'm going?
Mum: But you might have corn on the cob!
Me: Yes, but I can just use my hands, like I do normally.
Mum: How about this?
[holds up unidentifiable utensil, a wooden handle with a wire loop on the end]
Me: What is it?
Mum: I'm not sure. Possibly for cutting the tops off eggs....or, yes, this is it, it's for lifting boiled eggs out of the pan. Might be useful.
Me: What's wrong with a spoon!?