Call me Ishmael

Well well well, this time last year I was embarking on a random, albeit a bit scary, adventure from home in the Wirral to London. I call it an adventure as it wasn't really planned at all. I had itchy feet, so booked a one way ticket to London and packed a bag and off I went! I often wandered London reciting the opening lines of Moby Dick by Herman Melville. While finding my feet I did have little or no money in my purse.

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago--never mind how long precisely--having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particularto interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a littleand see the watery part of the world. It is a way I haveof driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation.Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth;whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul;

Ishmael being Emma. The shore being home. London being the watery part of the world. Stretching my limbs in another city. My mouth was grim, indeed.

But not for long! My feet firm, and my Taurean horns dug into a comforting pattern, I found my sea. And the ship took me somewhere great.

And so, Wednesday, my final day at work, will be one of sadness.

But I shall also be excited, I am homeward bound! Then Manchester bound for my final year of uni. And of course a little holiday in between! Exciting times.

The picture: Liverpool meets London in an iconic photograph, The Beatles crossing Abbey road. Which, according to recent news is causing some traffic related trouble, whereby tourists are risking their lives for a photo walking across it! It might have to be removed...