Three months ago, after seven and a half years in London, I left. With nothing but a laptop and a suitcase of clothes, I flew to Berlin to start a new chapter in my life. Last week marked three months to the day that I arrived in Berlin, not a milestone by any means, but the gravity of it has made me somewhat homesick for the past week or so. When I lived in London, I rarely got homesick. It was still Britain, everything was familiar, I had friends, and I knew that if/when any pangs for the green, green grass of home kicked in, I could jump on a train or a coach and be home in under three hours. This homesickness however, is different. Home is now a two hour flight then a three hour drive away, and because of that, I've been reflecting a lot on my time in London - the good, the bad, the incredibly ugly, but also the rewarding, the educational, the life-affirming and character-building things that have undeniably shaped and formed who I am today.