I Quit.
A couple of weeks ago, the glass of my kitchen window broke, nothing major, and without any reason, but it needed to be fixed. Because I rent, it’s my landlord’s problem. Today after some back and forth with the handyman, he came to install a new one. He arrived at 10 am, and at 10.11 am he left because the glass didn’t fit, the company had made it wrong.
The thing is, when I moved to the UK, I had an idea of a strong, powerful country where everything goes correctly. Big laugh. Again, big laugh. The UK maybe one day in the past had seen some glorious day, but not today. Today, what reins here is incompetency. I am not saying this just because of the glass, but for the past years, nothing seems to be working properly here. Maybe it was the pandemic that made everyone a bit tutu and incapable of following simple orders.
You might think, well, here she goes again, complaining. If I am so unhappy with the UK, why don’t I move? Because moving to another country is a big step, it’s hard, and I am not ready to deal with it again. And I want to make it work. I REALLY, REALLY DO. It actually feels like a marriage, my relationship with the UK. And I am not ready to get another divorce.
Before these types of events, a glass that doesn’t fit would make me upset; now that I have quit, I don’t care. Well, it didn’t fit; I will see you again in a couple of weeks, bye and thank you. I am…
