Just as in the early days of our London living there were various first-time experiences (as seen in this post, for instance), we are now going through experiences that are likely to be our “lasts”.
Our last trip on the Eurotunnel train occurred back in May, on our getaway to Brussels.
What I suspect was the last family day-trip took place this past Sunday.
The last family vacation on the continent is only three weeks away.
Last night, we had what I presume was our last dinner out in the Blackheath Village. Our friends Sharon and Vic came from Central London to join us for a meal at the local Michelin-reviewed establishment. Despite the somewhat sad occasion of this having been our farewell dinner with them, we had a great time, fortified by excellent food and good wine.
I coaxed everybody into a walk on the heath afterwards, but it was too windy for a pleasant stroll, so we left quickly. Unless something unexpected happens, it was likely my very last time of being on foot in the area. (Others in the family will have additional chances: Natasha will be taking Kimmy for one last classical music performance at Blackheath Halls, and Becky will surely have a picnic or two on the heath with her friends before we leave.)
I’m getting slightly melancholic about that, to be honest. Blackheath – which we visited often but did not get to live in – is near the top of the list of places that I grew fond of during my years in England.
The property management company erected a “To Let” sign on our front garden’s brick wall. We are now clearly marked for departure. 40 days left, for those keeping the score at home.