I Almost Don't Want To Chance Fate By Writing This...

....but it looks as though I am finally coming home.

After a long and arduous summer and a very tumultuous few months, it looks as though the wheels are in motion to move back to the UK.

Can it really be true?  I don't dare fully believe it myself.  But the fact is that I have found a compact and bijou house to rent in North London (well...more compact than bijou if truth be told) and Ex has agreed to move things forward by co-signing the lease with me and has ponied up the dosh for the deposit and first month's rent.  (Forgive all the slang but I am just trying to get back into the swing of things...need to refresh the lingo so I don't stick out like a sore thumb.  Innit.)

Now we just have to keep our fingers crossed that the references come through to reflect our status as shining examples as prospective pillars of the community...or else the whole thing could easily go tits up.

But.  Assuming they don't.  Assuming the tits remain firmly in place, then the house will be rented from 1st November and I can start applying for schools, booking shipping and generally running around like a headless chicken coordinating all the logistical paraphernalia  necessary to move home at the end of December.

Fingers crossed for the tits then.

I had to heave a sigh of relief tonight, while eating a culinary masterpiece of fish fingers and mash with the boys.  To me, fish of any kind (but especially the grey, tasteless cast-offs that generally comprise your average fish finger) cannot truly be savoured without a liberal dousing of salad cream.  I know, I know...not everyone's choice of seafood dressing, but most definitely mine.  The same goes for jacket spuds (I almost said baked potato but managed to find the 'right words' just in time...see I'm getting the hang of this).  Anyway, I am down to my last thimble of salad cream - so really, the timing couldn't be more perfect.