Peering out of the damp windows provides a timely and salutary reminder of one of the reasons we left Britain. The sea and sky are united in an unbroken dirty greyness disguising the horizon and cloaking the Greek islands in the far distance. We are confined by the persistent drizzle. There are many things I miss about London but the weather isn’t one of them though I was surprised to stumble across Interesting European Weather Facts that suggests that my home town has one of the most benign climates of the major European cities. It must be true. I read it on internet. Whatever the facts I’m glad of our regular city fix that enables us to have the best of both. Despite our warm and forgiving hosts, London is a place where we can genuinely breathe free. I can’t see us becoming diehard Blighty bashers unlike so many of our compatriots.
Everyone has a tale to tell and tell it they do. Many of the stories are depressingly similar – running away from something or someone and seeking renewal. It’s hard to fathom why poor old Blighty is so often blamed for their plight. Do people really think a faraway land offers a sure fire panacea for the demons who lie within? Liam and I have chosen to embrace our new life, not as a rejection of what had gone before, but as validation of our future. We are under no illusion that we can simply deposit our unwanted pasts at left luggage.
Perking the Pansies 
Truly honoured you took the phrase ‘Grey Britain’ and spun it. I must report a sudden Spring shift in London today. In Holland Park, people broke into spontaneous smiles at strangers, children frolic’d without knives and peacocks preened for swooning tourists. And all as the temperature soared into the early teens (!). Hearts sang but nobody’s counting on it lasting.
LikeLike
You’re very welcome. I know Holland Park well. I read your comment out to Liam. He says you write just like me! Be afraid.
LikeLike
O dear. I have been told that I write in a camp Edwardian style. Perverse, as I’m from an immigrant working class Turkish Cypriot family. English satire is hysterical and ex-pat ‘culture’ such a ripe topic. High up a hill in Northern Cyprus sits a lovely but twee village (‘Carmine’, I think). For decades, any prospective residents wishing to buy there have been subjected to a strict vetting process & Cypriots expressly forbidden to do so. Talk ’bout colonial outpost! (…..ok, note to Liam… I will desist from cheap attempts to hijack Jack’s blog, honest guv’, ha ha!). I xX
LikeLike
Well Ismail, camp Edwardian style is okay in my book, you carry on!
I really love what Jack’s doing and anyone who gets the satire is fine with me. ‘HiJack’ as often as you like x
LikeLike
Here’s to you Jack and Liam. I’ll stay tuned and jump in whenever it takes my tickled fancy. Just have to say that my pleasure at the writing is matched by alarm at the unsettling new graphics. Psychedelic neon throb of the Virgin Madonna (recent post) strikes a pose that is both sinister AND camp. Quite a feat.
LikeLike
I enjoy reading about your escapades in Turkey. However I am so glad you don’t find the need to bash the UK like so many ex pats. I love visiting Turkey as often as possible but I also love living in UK. It is the UK that has given me the ability to travel so often. I think so many ex pats forget that if it were not for their education, employment, pension etc they would not be in the position to live in another country.
LikeLike
Hi Jane
Thanks for your comment. You’re absolutely right. People so easily forget!
LikeLike