As ever: so much to do, so little time. Anxiety levels on the rise (waking up – and getting up! – at night, believing I’d forgotten to do something vital, or take pills (and I’m not on any medication…). Packing done – slowly – much more should have been got rid off, but it has stayed for sentimental reasons, yet again left to be unwrapped at some point and wondered at. The diary was full, and days flew by.

The farewell party was wonderful, despite being blighted by train strikes and Covid. Thank you to those who came, and sorry to those who couldn’t make it: there are virtually no photos as we were all busy chatting and having a good time.

Have also managed a bit of culture in the midst of it all – forgive the bragging: Das Rheingold at the ROH (terrific production, unlike the one at Bayreuth, with no ring, no fire, no horse…), Sarah LUCAS’s exhibition at the Tate B, The Threepenny Opera at the Cockpit theatre (reimagined, interesting :)).

The flat is ready for Charlotte to move in (thank you Ana and Gloria for your help), the backpack packed, the boarding pass to hand, the Uber booked for an ungodly 0430 hour.

Next stop, Istanbul.