I always used to think that I was in the habit of being in the right place at the right time. After all, I managed to meet The Special One despite the logistical difficulties posed by the fact that I was living and working in the UK while she was blissfully unaware of my existence on the other side of the Atlantic in New York. I’ve met some of my best friends through complete randomness, including Scottish Sally who merely called to book an advert when I happened to be staying late on the newspaper I was working on, and has been a lifelong friend ever since. And some of the best jobs I’ve ever had have been the result of conversations that might never have happened if circumstances had been even slightly different.
Of course, I was less lucky when having my lights punched out in Cambridge ten years ago, but on the whole I can’t really complain.
However, since moving to the United States, it seems that I am actually always in the wrong place at the right time, permanently destined to miss every big moment that the United States has to offer. When America celebrated its independence on July 4, for instance, I was flying out to Europe for a summer
holidayvacation, missing the fireworks and festivities. When Barack Obama won the presidential election, I was sitting on a sofa in South London. And when he heads to Washington for the inauguration next month, I’ll be sitting in Heathrow Airport waiting for the next leg of a flight home from the South of France.
It’s a similar story with this blog. I wrote my 200th post on a flight away from the US for work. For the year anniversary of starting the blog, and the year anniversary of moving to New York, I was in the UK. And today’s my 500th day out of water, so sure enough I’m 3458 miles from my adopted home city, and will be celebrating the dawn of 2009 five hours sooner than East Coast residents.
Rather than britoutofwater.com, maybe I should see if occasionalresidentofnewyork.com is available instead?
Happy New Year, everyone.