Breaking Dancing Licenses All Over Town

Getting out of London was a relief. No more busy tube. No more terrible food. No more grey days. No more shady landlord. No more living without amenities. No more checking each day to see how bad the dollar is doing. No more chavs. No more foreigner confusion/stopping conversation to ask, "What does that mean?” no more tonsillitis. No more snooty French women or bro-ham Australian men. No more Kylie Minge or Anastasia. No more Prince Charles Cinema. No more cute little cars. No more cute little friends. No more feeling everything is new and exciting. No more free museums I didn't make time to go to. No more Mr. Hoover. No more gawking about time it takes to travel in the States. No more bad fish, no more good chips. No more musicless JD Wetherspoon veggie burgers.

There isn't much about London that I haven’t had to repeat to every one of my parents' friends at their holiday party.

Basic breakdown: first three months were mostly terrible while the last month was fantastic and I can't wait to go back; in the summer.