Inbetween New York and London: how I got here

I’m writing this as I fly over the Atlantic. It seems apt as I’m halfway between London and New York. Just as my life is.
10 years ago, on 31 December, 2001, I gave away everything I owned. Bed, pictures, ornaments, presents, posters, books, clothes, dishes, everything. I packed what I owned in one backpack and boarded a plane to London. I arrived in Camden in a uniform of jeans, hoodie, bandana, braids and steel toe boots. My backpack? It had a Canadian flag on it. I owned 3 pairs of shoes. I could move house with one trip on the tube.
10 years later and I’m off again. Trading Big Ben for the Empire States Building, St. Paul’s for the Statue of Liberty, the West End for Broadway. My new favourite bridge will be the one to Brooklyn instead of the one over the Thames. My coffee will come 50 ways and I’ll tip heavily for it.
I will be an outsider. My clothes are British as is my humour and my Canadian roots come out every time I say sorry, “out and about” or express my absolute living and breathing love of hockey.
But how could I not say yes when I was offered the job to come here?














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