Reality (and coldness) bites.

I have spent the morning holed up in Helen's bedroom in what has felt like some sort of drill for surviving a Nuclear Winter. Their boiler broke on the same day that temperatures in London decided to emulate Boston and I decided to mix-up my choice of couch. I think someone's trying to prepare me for life with Jeremy.

So I've donned the thermal underwear Helen gave me for my belated birthday present (no joke - it's not sexy but it's necessary Boston Armour. Jeremy is not going to thank her) along with my gloves, leg-warmers, hood, hot-water bottle and 3 duvet covers (comforters) and have only been venturing out to use the toilet and scavenge for food. I know that in a real nuclear winter I'd probably no be venturing out for trivial things like toileting, but I wasn't going to take it that far (although it was tempting).


Also this morning my last paycheck, for a very long time, landed in my bank account. It was nicer than my usual paycheck because I've been fortunate to have been made redundant at a very opportune time. However, looking at it and thinking of visas, weddings, flights and months of unemployment that have to come out of it, reality began to set in and I felt a little sick.


Of course financially I'll be fine - I have that notarised pledge that Jeremy will support me when I move over - and the coldness, well short of sponsoring Climate change or sabotaging the Copenhagen Summit (although they seem to be doing a pretty good job of that themselves), it's somewhat out of my control (but rest assured Jeremy will be acquiescing on the heating - i.e. he'll turn the pilot light on so I can use it). But it's all becoming very very real.

I'm excited - thrilled - to be getting married, to be on the same side of that DamnedAtlantic as my beloved, to have the opportunity to refocus my career path. The fear is creeping back though - fear of the unfamiliar, of missing family and friends (I'm in total denial about this - thinking about it makes me feel like I've been kicked in the stomach), of not being able to justify frivolous clothes purchases since it's not my money (I've been told the 'I've moved countries for you' line can only be pulled out on special occasions, and even then it's considered pretty low).

So today the cold hard reality of the last paycheck and freezing noses is rather underlining the fear. My solution? Mulled Wine, bread and wensleydale with Sian. Gotta make the best of things here - don't underestimate the value of denial.