60 Days and Counting


A street in Soho

We’ve started the countdown to our big move back to the UK. It will be four years almost to the day we landed in this island country. I was five months pregnant. In our time here our little girl has flown through baby v0.1, to toddler v1.0 and 2.0, and now well into her threenager v3.0.

We’ve had a flurry of furkids too. We fostered then adopted a beautiful little black fluffball, Meimei, who was taken from us much too soon. We then fostered four more puppies, sending three out to their forever homes. We kept the smallest, sweet natured Obi, who has grown from a skinny and scruffy barely-handful of puppy to a fifty pound snuggle-loving hound. Our old-timer pug Deuce has weathered the changes with his usual imperious attitude, but I know he’ll be happiest back in London snuffling around the heather in Richmond Park.

I’ll be sorry to leave Hong Kong, and especially sorry to leave our gorgeous sea view. I have 60 days left. I better make ’em good.


The view from our balcony


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