Prologue

Ah, London! When I was little I was desperate to go there, partially because I’d read about it in ‘The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe’ and partially because I wanted to see snow. If American television had taught me anything (aside from my inability to remember which way ‘z’ is supposed to be pronounced) it was that snow was the greatest thing on this Earth. My desire was sated somewhat when my parents finally relented and drove us up to Lake Mountain and my brother got his foot stuck under a log and I realised that snow is not made of hopes, dreams and cotton candy, but is instead cold, wet and uncomfortable. Four hours later, I decided that London could get stuffed.

Fast forward to six months ago, I went back there. At the time I didn’t know what to expect, still reeling from the bitter taste that comes from a childhood dream being shredded into little pieces on the side of a freezing cold mountain. Imagine my surprise when London was not (as I later began to call Lake Mountain) ’shit’, but something altogether awesome. They had musical theatre! And Bloc Party! In the same place! I was freaking out. (Although, if I’m being one hundred percent honest, it did rain, maybe, the whole time I was there? In my defence, I like indie, emo and folk music, so bad weather is totally my genre! Suck that, summer!)

Returning home, I decided I would move to London in a couple of years. If I had that much fun while I was there for three weeks, what would living there by like? I could see musicals every single week! If I did it with the same frequency, that would mean I’d have to see about 173 shows over the course of the year. Still, surely I could find other stuff to do there on the remaining 192 days. Then all of a sudden I got offered a job, and now I leave in three weeks.

And, obviously, this is my blog.