Dear Alula, Yesterday you cried. You were inconsolable. You want to leave now, you sobbed. You don’t want to make friends in England, you said, because you’ll just end up leaving them, so what’s the point? You’re really bad at math, you cried. And you call braids braids, not plaits. Who calls them plaits anyway? …

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For those of you who’ve followed us since the beginning you’ll remember that our reasons for leaving the UK were numerous. We wrote these reasons on post-its and stuck them on the wall of our bedroom in south east London before we decided to up stix and get the hell out of dodge. The reasons …

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As you know John, Alula and I left the UK in January 2010. We were looking for a new home – somewhere hot, less stressful,  somewhere with a creative, entrepreneurial vibe, somewhere with good schools and good people. And we found Bali and it’s our version of perfect living (back then I hadn’t even anticipated …

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I am standing in the middle of a traffic island in rush hour traffic at the junction of St Martin’s lane and Long Acre. And I’m having an in depth quite serious conversation whilst people in suits rush past as though the end of the world is nigh. The conversation goes something like this: But …

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I was talking the other day in a post about the sense of community we’re finding just as we leave – remember the jazz dancing neighbours spinning off lamp posts and the pimping out I’m doing of John? – in a similar way, just as I resign and prepare to bugger off for a rather …

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