I left London…
I finally left London.
You see, I hadn’t planned on staying for 4 years. I had planned on staying for one… then one year became two… two became three and so on. I’m not the first and I definitely wont be the last to have found herself in this situation… most of us tend to get caught up in London.
After all, London life was… nice… very nice in fact.
I turned contract after contract interspersed with months of travel on end. When the money ran out I simply phoned my agency, lined up more work, and went back to London. It was quite the lifestyle. I worked a total of 16 different contracts over 14 different hospitals. I lived in a total of 3 hostels, 3 sets of hospital accommodation, and 6 share houses… in my 4 years in London. I met countless new and interesting people, had fantastic housemates who would become family, and met people on the road who would influence my life in countless ways and send me shooting off in directions I never would have dreamed. I saw Europe. Only instead of being content with that, my list of places I needed to see before I went home became longer. My appetite to see the world only became more insatiable. Each ‘last contract’ I worked became ‘one more’ in a bid to fund just a few more months on the road.
London was easy… London was always there…. London funded my dreams.