This one is for all the ex-pats who have lived in the UK for more than five years. Five years, I've found, is the length of time it takes to go from feeling you've landed in an amazing place and you love everything about it – or, at least, what you don't love you find eccentrically different and quirky; to feeling that, if you don't see the particular way the light streams into a room at the latitude you grew up on or walk down a street knowing everyone around you watched the same crap TV when they were growing up as you did, you will sink into a dark well of despondency. It's the point at which you find all the quirky differences in your adopted home no longer interesting but downright ridiculous or, worse, so irritating you want to scream.
At any event, I post this picture of the Guggenheim because it is wonderfully New York and reminds me of home. Yes, even after all these years, I still think of New York as home. Oh, poo. Running out of time. Enjoy Monday, everyone!