I miss England.

I miss baguettes for lunch, never having to drive, always having to walk (and sidewalks to walk on), pubs, pub lunches with work colleagues, reading the back of the Evening Standard that the person across from me is holding on the train from Paddington back to Reading in the evenings, coffees in the morning while standing on a freezing train platform, day trips to Oxford with DH, weekend trips to Lake District or Barcelona, beans and cheese on a jacket potato, the scary mannequins in the window of the old department store, skipping work and watching Tweenies and House Invaders, listening to Chris Moyles, and revisiting the memories of when Pete and I first met.

Then I remember how expensive it is, how suffocating never having to drive gets, how much I miss my friends and family (including pets), and how rude some people can be just b/c you're American.

I still miss it. Instead of putting in my monthly job application to Google this month, I think I'll send one to the BBC again. Sigh.