On the plane from London to Toronto now… thanks the gods! I lived here for 5 years almost 6 years ago, a time accounting for about 1/7th of my life, yet weirdly I have few memories of the place- mostly because the human brain has a way of protecting the psyche by burying bad memories beneath a mountain of denial.
Take note, kiddies. This is what misery in an unhappy graduate programme will do for you: deep emotional scars requiring tankards of alcohol, fatty carby foods, illicit sex and the occasional TV binge. so pick your PhD programmes well!
I have survived my return to the dreaded L-place, with my psychic core still mostly functional. Still, when I think of the place I get a case of what one internet columnist once called “the douche chills”.