Seven years ago today, on a rainy and dark evening, a younger Joey arrived in Bristol to do a masters. And the rest, as they say, is history.
I am happy in the UK. This country has been good to me and I have felt nothing but very welcome here. In return, I have opened myself to Britishness, work on my English every day and dutifully complain about the weather.
I have a bucket list of “such a British thing to do”. I have eaten fish and chips from a paper wrap, outside, on a cold and wet day. I have eaten fish and chips because I felt like it, damnit. I think it appalling to turn the heating on before November and have become best friends with a hot water bottle. I hate marmite. I love Marks & Spencer’s food. I think roasts are the best thing on a Sunday. I have more than one umbrella and always carry one (except today! it's raining). I apologise *a lot*; sometimes I apologise for just standing there when people bump into me, a classic British thing to do. I say “we” when referring to the great British public. I love pubs; Friday pub after work is like, awesome! I know what interesting means. I have a diary and I use it; we book things in advance over here. When the sun is out, I make the most of it; take it not for granted, we say! I’m doing well on this journey, if I may say so myself.
My story in the UK would not be what it is without the bunch of people I'm lucky enough to call friends. Blimey, have I been lucky! They hug me and take me on British adventures and adventures into Britishness. I have a family of friends here… of course these seven years have been great!