I got back a week or so ago from an extended holiday in London and Copenhagen, and since then I have wanted very much to write about it while simultaneously procrastinating doing so. Last night it occurred to me that the block existed because I wasn’t able to write about the holiday as a whole. What I went to London for, and what I got out of that trip, was quite different from Copenhagen; when I thought about the holiday that way, I could clearly see what I wanted to say about the two halves of it. So, London first, and Copenhagen next time. My friend asked me on this trip if I miss living in London. It’s a question that pops up and lingers, every now and then, in my own mind. The thing about living in a place is, it becomes the backdrop of your mundane daily life. The city becomes train delays and cold sandwich lunches and the routine of dragging yourself to work and back every day. You are preoccupied with what to cook for dinner and your noisy neighbours and the gas bill…
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