Now I have to hope to the god that is part of my new official state religion (do I need to have the local vicar over for tea when I move?) that someone over there hires me soon. Amazingly, people want to interview me.
The goal is to get the fuck out of America with my daughter before Trump is inaugurated. No specific plan of where to move, just wherever I get a job. We will move to the Falklands if we have to.
It feels so close now.
Huh. Here I assumed there was a bunch of Silkwood showers on the backside of Gatwick for septics* to clean off on the way to the connecting flight. :-p
(*Never tell me what the slang for Canucks is, unless it’s funny, and then definitely tell me)