Almost home

Aye, this time next week I can call myself a Tel Avivian. Or Tel Avivi, or Tel Aviver...

The boxes are still being packed, things are getting more frantic, but it'll all be over soon. You can call me Mr Ruthless, as I dispatch t-shirts and leather jackets to the bin, while cutting down Levis to bermuda length (for the summer). You'd be ruthless too, if the place you're moving into is half the size of your current abode. Exactly half. Something that mrs anglosaxy has yet to get her head round (I can't get me head round that...). She's going to have to ditch those minks...

While one part of me is very happy to be returning to the big city (ahh, just a drunken bike ride away from my 'local'...), another part of me is beginning to question the move. OK, smallsville ain't for me, but the pace of the city might just catch me out...I'm beginning to realise that these two little buggars that have taken on my surname might just appreciate a life outside the hustle and bustle and goddamn frustration that is Tel Aviv. Fields of poppies do that to you, eh? Then again, they might just love Tel Aviv...

And yes, a photo tribute to smallsville coming soon...