Three whole years

Yesterday was my three year anniversary with London. It snuck up on me. If I'd known I would have put a little oomph into it. As it was I spent the day - the rainy, windy, not really very warm day - trailing up and down Oxford Street with my Lovely Boy looking for suits and wondering where our joie de vivre had gone. Even a lunch date in the Food Hall at Selfridges couldn't improve the situation. We're both tired, we're both long overdue for a holiday and we have three house guests at the moment, one of whom is an adorable baby with fangs of snot and an impressive lung capacity that's been getting a workout at regular intervals throughout the night. To say it's not terribly romantic would be underselling the situation somewhat.

To be fair, the night before we did go for a date, 'dinner and a movie' style and had an equally lovely lunch with baby and daddy at the Union Market at Fulham Broadway in a rare afternoon of sunshine. But it's all a bit beige down this here struggle strasse lately.

The weekend before last though I took Lovely Boy to the Roundhouse at Chalk Farm to see Ron Arad's Curtain Call, a 360 degree art/video/sound installation made of 18,000 silicon rods that parted like an old school fly screen to let you into its belly where you could then sit on the floor and watch the animations Arad had commissioned from his friends, including David Shrigley and Mat Collishaw.

Lovely Boy dragged his feet getting there - I had to bribe him with Peking duck pancakes on Wardour Street first, but even he had to concede that it was not in fact the affectation he predicted it would be. In fact, he loved it. And so did I.

We could have sat in there for hours and just let the sound and images absorb us but little sister Sophie was in town and so we went for dinner instead. It was a good day. A new winter coat in the morning (did I mention that bit?...) some duck pancakes in the afternoon with a chaser of art and then dinner with a sibling. A Good Day.

This weekend just gone lacked that kind of certainty but hopefully the week will bring something special. I'm not sure what yet but I'm hopeful. The only way I managed Monday was to book our January trip to Thailand and a wash and blow dry for Friday morning before we head to wedding number three.

I can't even begin to contemplate my fourth year in London. I don't know how long I thought I'd be here for but I don't think I thought it would be for this long. It's funny where life sends you sometimes. I'm certainly not unhappy in London but every day is a conscious choice to be here, at least while I have this job and the promise of travel next year with my Lovely Boy, but the minute I stop choosing my choice we're outta here. But give me a holiday, a cocktail and a decent night's sleep and I may yet change my mind.