I'm sorry I wasn't kind to you in my last post. You see, I'm still warming up to you (just as you're cooling down, ironically enough). It's hard to like you when I'm busy trying to find a house, and I'm still so confused by everything you do. Your prices are weird. You have different names for things. On the other hand, you're very familiar at times, and perhaps that's why it's so disorienting to be around you: you aren't wildly different, like Warszawa or Aarhus, but you're just different enough that I can never quite relax. Sometimes, I just want to leave you and go back to Sydney, where I know and love everyone and everything. Other times, I just want to pack up and move to Copenhagen. Oh London, why can't you be Copenhagen? I know that we're together now and I shouldn't be thinking of other cities, but every time I close my eyes, I see the canals and cathedrals of Copenhagen. But don't worry: I would never cheat on you. I made a commitment, and I intend to see it through.
Of course, I've been dreaming of this for years, so it's no surprise that the reality never quite measures up to my fantasies. But I enjoy spending time with you. I like your palaces (especially now that I've bought a membership to the Historic Royal Palaces), I love your parks, your plentiful and affordable gigs, your lovely pubs with their artery-cloggingly delicious food. I love the way the clothes in your shops look, but I hate the fact that they're all made of synthetic fabrics. I hate that coffee is so expensive here, but I guess that I should be thankful that it's not as expensive as Aarhus. Stupid Aarhus and its ten dollar coffee. I like that you gave me a job at the BBC. I like that I have friends living here, and have already made new ones. I love your museums. Almost as much as I love The X Factor.
So London, once again, I'm sorry if I've seemed distant. You seem really cool, and I want to get to know you better. But whatever happens in our relationship, I hope we can always stay friends.