So it’s official: we’re moving back to New Zealand, leaving London, our friends, our jobs, our neighbourhood (the good and bad), our local off-licence with Budvar for £1.30 a bottle, our walks on the New River (and now and again on Regent’s Canal), our blasé approach to a critical terror level, our disgust at Uth culture, our infuriation with public transport (but our joy when it works, which it often does), our lazy acceptance of the educated middle-class cleverness that makes so much of London life work, our knowledge that the Tate and BM and BL and the V&A and National Gallery and the NPG and all those other things are just there on the off-chance we want to go, our access to the most wonderful city parks in the world (and yes, we do go to these), and so much more… all this we’re leaving.