Some fairly monumental news

I recently went to Bristol to stay with The Man for three weeks. He has been working down there on a temporary contract. (Those of you who follow me on Twitter may remember my excitable roars as I sat in the First Class Lounge at Paddington for the first time in my life, helping myself to free newspapers, bottles of water, biscuits and basically everything that wasn’t nailed to the wall.)

Anyway, I got to Bristol, had a little wander round and thought . . . Oh cripes! I want to live here! I could hear birdsong. I could meet The Man at the other side of the city and it took only half an hour to walk there. The streets were pretty and the architecture as varied as it was stunning. I looked at what was on at the theatre and there was pretty much just one theatre that I was interested in, rather than a bewildering fifty. The roads were quiet and some were even cobbled. I could hear seagulls and kept chancing upon beautiful parks that weren’t crammed with people because in Bristol people have things called gardens. I could jump in a car and be with my parents within 45 minutes. And The Man, driving in the opposite direction, could be with his. We could jump in a car together and drive to The Wales in about a minute.

And (most importantly) I went out for some mezze and was served a year’s worth of food, all for seven pounds fifty. Including halloumi that I would definitely kill someone for. IT WAS A MODERN BANQUET AND IT COST SEVEN POUNDS FIFTY AND WAS SERVED BY A MAN WHO KNEW HOW TO SMILE. AND DID I MENTION THE HALLOUMI.

(Cheese seems to wedge itself into every area of my life. Even into categories such as, ‘Deciding factors for choice of neighbourhood.’)

The next day I woke up and said to The Man, ‘I think I’d like to live here. In this Bristol place. What say you, The Man?’

The Man looked relieved. ‘Ah,’ he replied. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear, therefore, that I have just been headhunted for a massive job. In Bristol. Starting, erm, pretty much now.’

The story is a bit longer than that but I won’t bore you with it as I’m sure your enthusiasm for our domestic arrangements and The Man’s employment status is possibly not quite equal to mine – plus I am off soon to spend the day in a top secret super-luxury venue for free (shut up. I’m still on holiday) – but the basics are these:

1. The Man and I are moving to Bristol

2. Pretty much now

3. My wonderful, precious, mad, heartbreaking, unforgettable time in London has come to an end. Shall I write a poem or something? About London? (Hmmm? What’s that? Did someone just throw a rotten egg at me? Stop it! And another one! STOP IT!)

4. We have nowhere to live in Bristol.

5. RAHH! and ARGHH!

6. I shall be back soon with a non-poetic ode to the life and times of Lucy Robinson in London. It will read like Joyce’s fragmented visions of Dublin, or perhaps Hemingway’s spare yet affectionate portrait of Paris.

7. I am in shock.

8. I need to go and do some packing.

 

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4 Responses to Some fairly monumental news

  1. Helen says:

    Wowzers. Congratulations Lucy. Everyone I know is blimmin moving to Bristol. Well, three people. And my favourite blogger.
    Good luck, it will be magnificent.

  2. Sounds fab Lucy!

    Good luck packing, I’m terrible at it, I always start reminiscing with each item as I find things to pack away.

    Me and my man are currently saving a mortgage deposit but we actually have no idea where we want to live, we just know it isn’t where we are now so we just keep on saving! I think at 23 I have plenty of time left to find where I want to live but I hope I find it soon and It would help if I have a job there too.

  3. Katy regan says:

    This made me cry for many reasons:

    1) you will be far away – who the fuck is going to put up with me and my writing neuroses now?

    2) You sound so happy! (was crying in a good way)

    2) This line: My wonderful, precious, mad, heartbreaking, unforgettable time in London has come to an end was well, moving, because I remember that, that time, of ten years in London coming to an end and it was MOMENTOUS. God, you should write a novel or something. When are you going? Call me! x

  4. Natalie says:

    Woo hoo! It could be the inspiration for for the next 400 ish pages of your hilarious brilliant-ness, The Most Romantic Relocation in History or something – I’m sure your own title will be ever so less crap.
    I don’t envy all that packing though. My advice, have a house clearance sale and buy new stuff :-)) x

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