For the last ten years, only one thing has been constant in my life "plan". I use the irritating little " because I am well aware that every major decision I have ever had to take has been made at the last minute. I have no plan. I have only this overwhelming, sickening desire to move to the US within the next five to ten years.
I cannot really explain it. It is an American Dream as far removed from Steinbeck's as you might get, but then, not. I'm not after wealth, but I am in search of something seen on the screen, something ostensibly perfect, something a little Desperate Housewives with a big twist of malicious Stepford smashed in among the ice. I want Disney, but I want it with the undercurrent of all that is terrible about clapboard facades and signs swinging in a humid bay breeze.
I'm in Connecticut. I might get my wish, if just for a while.
I'm afraid I shall be sending e-mails to all those who didn't request them, telling you about the things we're going to get up to, but do check here for pieces more tedious and pretentious in tone. Wouldn't want to let you down.