Maybe it's because I'm not a Londoner any more.

Oops, went quiet again. Sorry. Although I knew I was going away for a week, I thought as I was bringing my laptop with me there would be no interruption in blogging. Lesson learnt: in future I'll either schedule posts in advance or explain that I'm going somewhere!

I had a pretty amazing birthday - as you probably gathered from the Balmoral post, the Husband was pulling out all the stops to spoil me, and on the day itself I had a wonderful time and received many very lovely presents.

The next day we got on a train and headed down to London - or suburban Bromley, to be more precise - to spend a week staying with my folks. The weekend was for family celebrations (once again, spoilt rotten), and then the week itself for catching up with friends - going from Belgravia to Brixton via Sloane Square all in an afternoon, I nearly melted my slightly-too-pristine Oystercard.

The thing is, I used to be a Londoner. Grew up in deepest, darkest suburban South London, went to school in another suburb, lived there from the age of five till the age of eighteen, and every university summer. As my parents still live there, I've always had a key that leads me to a house, and a bedroom, within a stone's throw of London town, and I've always been proud that however long I've been away, I'm still a Londoner at heart - get in my way on the tube and see me snarl. 

But last week I realised I'm not a Londoner any more.

With each old haunt revisited, the feeling grew - the city has become a tapestry of happy memories for me, but is no longer home.

It was wonderful to see so many people I love, and the pang of saying goodbye to every single one of them nearly drew me back. And as I skipped between so many different places, all looking so very full of promise in the sun, of course I thought, briefly, of moving back.

But in the ten-ish years since I left (taking an average from all the little leaving homes that happen at university) London's changed. That Oystercard - which finally I can use on pay as you go in South London - is just one symbol. This trip I finally got around to going to Tate Modern, which opened after I left, and tried not to cry at the Ai Weiwei sunflower seeds, behind rope, as its creator is behind bars.

And for every change in the city, there's been a change in me.When I left, so hungry for success, I assumed I'd come back - to get to the top, I'd need to be in London.

Now, I guess I'm hungry for happiness. That doesn't mean I've left ambition behind me - I'm never going to be happy if I'm bored at work - but it's not the only thing that matters. Although I'd still like to be near the bright lights, now it's also important to be near the open spaces.

So I've popped my Oystercard back in the drawer and found my Lothian buses ridacard, slipped it into my handbag, planned my next escape to open country.

And after that I'll pencil in my next visit to the Big Smoke.


Back to the recipes tomorrow I promise...