This was clearly not in the script. For 17 years I've lived and prospered in Sheffield, almost, but not quite, half a lifetime. Being a quintessential northerner in spirit, a quintessential northern city was always going to be an easy fit and I've had very little inclination to relocate over the years, even during periods of unemployment and unsatisfactory employment. July 2015 however and somehow the stars managed to align themselves to provide a compelling argument for sampling a slice of London life. I'll be starting a 12 month secondment at our head office in September, and in my head I'm treating it as a well paid gap year. A temporary departure from normality. A chance to play in the biggest and most exciting playground in the world. A tiny fish in a huge pond. I'm like a salmon on a run to do a spot of spawning before heading back to more familiar shores to settle.
Things were very different when I first landed in Sheffield in August 1998 to take up residence at Hallam University's student halls. Tony Blair and his babes were in their pomp, Sheffield Wednesday played in the Premier League, no one was particularly phobic about Islam, record shops were aplenty, cameras had film in them, Madonna's artistic integrity was still intact, a tweet was just a sound birds make, a tablet a slab used for inscriptions, a selfie stick might've referred to something altogether more private and the concept of sexting, cankles, jeggings and chillax hadn't yet been portmanteau'd. Bluetooth, blu-ray, USB, micro-SIM, say what??
First impressions weren't great. Stepping out of the train station we were greeted by run down Hallam buildings to the front, Park Hill flats to the rear. Sophisticated urban landscapes all round. Sheffield had seemingly not moved at all since the 1960s.
Luckily this year's hoards of freshers can enjoy a vastly improved vista, although Park Hill flats will outlive us all. The past decades have seen huge redevelopment of the city centre and adjoining areas, mostly but not wholly for the better. Personally I would've kept the Yorkshire Grey rather than replace it with a funny looking multi storey car park. And I'm still most upset that I missed out on the mythical Hole in the road. Nevertheless, whatever the relative merits of modernisation, the things that makes Sheffield great remains.
Sheffield end edging closer, the countdown to London has officially begun. I eventually secured an optimal flat share in Globe Town, within touching distance of hipster Mecca, and I'll be living in hope that the mere proximity will stimulate my facial hair follicles to multiply like an aggressive virus. It's London, miracles do happen. I may well find myself on a collision course with London itself. Pretentious, expensive, ostentatious, obtrusive, these are a few of my non-favourite things. I am however planning to embrace the whole experience with open arms, and if all else fails I've located a chippy in Holborn that does chips and gravy. Nothing else matters.
Of course new beginnings call for new looks. I've ruthlessly discarded droves of clothing and footwear to create space and ease the removal load, round 2 to follow, but at the same time I've been busy purchasing. Yin and yang and all that.
Purple skinny trousers from Topman, £9.60 in the sale. Great colour but may need to reserve these for standing up gatherings only to avoid groin splitting.
12 months a Londoner beckons, time will tell if the schtick sticks or if Sheffield will out. I suspect the lure of cheap beer, steep hills and dee-dahs will prevail. And chips and gravy obviously. Chuck in some scraps and I'm sold.
