I've now lived in London for four whole years. That's rapidly approaching five winters; now two New Zealand elections; one milestone birthday and three regular ones; two London Christmases, and two provincial ones; and one really long phone hacking scandal.
It's cliche I know, but where have the last four years gone? I could have completed a PhD in that time. And some.
I certainly have a lot more stuff now than the small wheelie suitcase and weekend bag I came with. Our fridge is graced with a collection of exotic tourist magnets, and I've pretty much memorised the major tube lines and important stops. But despite all of this, I still wonder exactly how the last 48 months could have gone quite so quickly.