If I was still writing my old blog, I wouldn’t have thought twice about recommendations for a short break. But since no-one actually reads this one, never mind. I’m off to Belfast in, ooh, less than a week, and I’ve spent the morning working out what to do, where to go, what to eat (most importantly), etc. Of course, I’ve been working far more than I have been slacking. Ahem.
I’ve not a lot of idea what to expect past what the tourist information board tells me. If that’s anything to go by, I should have a great day (that’s all I’ve got there), but they probably have some sort of ulterior motive in telling me that. I.e., salaries. So I’ve got a rough idea but not many real opinions which I guess is nice: I’ll just have to work it out for myself.
I’ve always been an advocate of broadening ones horizons; I moved to London from the countryside for university but could hardly leave these days, such is the breadth of life to be seen here, as opposed to Hampshire’s leafy lanes. Travelling comes into that equation, however, but I’ve always been a little limited in my options. Family holidays were around the UK, and recently my ventures have been capped by time and financial restraints, and other commitments, which means I really haven’t travelled as much as I wish. It’s something to work on for sure, because although London welcomes almost every nationality through its doors, it’s still not the same as visiting elsewhere. Just think what amazing architecture I’m missing out on, the sights and sounds and smells and, as ever, most importantly, the tastes.
It’s hardly rectifying it by visiting Belfast, to be fair, but a couple of days in another part of the world never did me no harm.
I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever move out of London. The vast majority of the time, were you to ask me, I’d say, quite definitively, no. But at other times I’m enraptured by a sight, a thought, a whim: I often wish to travel around Eastern Europe and having visited Prague for the first time in October, for the first time I can imagine myself living abroad. But I have no idea where it would be, and for how long, and if it would match up to the Big Smoke. I’m a little besotted with this city of mine, you see, and I’m no way near tired of it, even by Pepys’ definition.
One things for sure: if you ever catch me contemplating moving to somewhere like Reading, or Northampton, or Swindon, stop me; look me directly in the eye; and say “no”, while bashing me on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.
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