I’m daydreaming about a different life today.
In my daydream, I pack it all in and move to France. Maybe Paris, maybe a village in the mountains, maybe a town in the south. Maybe all of the above in sequence.
I’ll live in a little flat and teach English as a foreign language. In my spare time, I’ll sit in little French cafes with views over cobbled streets and write.
In the evenings, I’ll stop at little local grocers and boulangeries to pick up my dinner on the way home.
And I’ll visit Shakespeare & Co. in Paris, and become a part of the little ex-pat community. I’ll sit in dusty corners of the shop on rainy days and read, with the shop cat keeping me company.
And when I’m lonely, I’ll take the train across to England to visit my aunts, or up to Belgium or the Netherlands to see old friends.
Yes, I think that’s what I’ll do. Sounds nice, no?