I AM leaving London. Four simple words, yet I honestly thought I would never utter them in my life. As a teenager I always dreamed of living in London, all those trendy shops, wonderful restaurants and cool night clubs. Everything your heart desires is on your doorstep.
But, with the help of Aer Lingus, for the last four years I have been doing my part to bolster Anglo-Irish relations. Despite the odd hiccup, like my boyfriend initially believing the Irish Sea would come between us, and the occasional discussion over whether our children would play for England or Ireland, our relationship is great and we are now getting married in August.
So the next big decision was: was it Dublin versus London? It was hardly a fair contest. A two-bedroom modern apartment at Christ Church, just a 10- minute stroll from the centre of town, or a one-bedroom compact flat with an exorbitant rent in Archway, north London, and seven Tube stops from the city.
Not surprisingly, my boyfriend gleefully worked out exactly how much I had paid my landlady over the years, as I put my fingers in my ears, shouting: "Don't tell me." Suffice it to say I could probably have bought a small house in the country.
Now, after a fortnight of saying au revoir to my friends and family, D- Day has finally arrived and I am moving to Dublin tomorrow. In between all the reminiscing and the odd drink or two, everyone keeps asking me what will I miss about London.
My local taxi-driver declared London was the greatest city in the world because it has the best fish and chips. My postman insisted you could not buy a better pint of lager anywhere and my neighbour simply said: "The Sun newspaper, cycling in Hyde Park and Soho's cafes, but not necessarily in that order." I should hope not.
So where shall I begin? Apart from the obvious, like popping round to see my best friend for a chat or feasting on my mother's cooking, I shall miss London for so many different reasons. Getting lost on Hampstead Heath, browsing around Camden market, window shopping at Harvey Nicks, sipping cappuccinos at my favourite cafe while watching the world go by - the list is endless.
To my shame I know I have not fully appreciated all of London's art galleries and museums, but I have very fond memories of traipsing around many of them on countless rainy days.
Perhaps most of all I will miss living in a multi-cultural city. I currently have a Greek dry-cleaner, an Indian doctor, an Australian dentist and an Egyptian optician. Within walking distance of my flat there is an award-winning French restaurant, an Irish pub, an Italian cafe, a Turkish kebab house, a Jamaican bar and, of course, the obligatory Chinese and Indian take-aways.
Despite the invasion by English shops of Ireland, as a small-time Imelda Marcos I must confess I will sadly miss my favourite shoe shop. And what about Marmite? It is the only thing to spread on your toast in the morning. My boyfriend says he has walked the streets of Dublin searching for a pot, but to no avail. I have my doubts. But if Ireland really is a Marmite-free zone then my mother is under strict instructions to send me monthly supplies.
I certainly won't miss being stranded in the middle of town at midnight courtesy of dear old London Underground. Living on the infamous Northern Line, I don't like to think how many hours I have spent stuck in a tunnel or waiting endlessly for a train to appear, only for it to break down at the next stop. My journey home from work can take anything from 30 minutes on a good day to two hours, which I can assure you plays havoc with one's social life.
As for the antiquated habit of calling last orders at 11 p.m., even in the so-called Irish pubs, or being prevented from eating in a restaurant after a certain time in London, I can't wait to have a choice. Surely a truly cosmopolitan city does not shut down at mid-night?
It would be nice to think that the next time I visit London, the new Labour government's promises will have come into effect. So the ever- increasing number of homeless people will have a choice of a hostel rather than have to resort to a shop-doorway, and even the Underground will run on time and be clean.
So slainte ... Dublin here I come.