Over the last three weeks, I have received two very applicable emails.
I've had few interesting emails sent to my Peas account over the past five years.
The memorable ones include:
1) A guy offering to collect my stuff from an ex-boyfriend's house for me;
2) Diemersfontein Winery informing me that they'd be sending me a crate of their pinotage;
3) Steri-Stumpie informing me they'd be sending me a whole bunch of chocolate milk next week;
4) Various fan mail from those who loved my book or read my blog;
5) Various hate mail from an ex boyfriend/scorned readers;
6) Jack Parow asking if I'd be so kind as to promote his new video Dans Dans Dans. (Sorry guy, I forgot. Am a massive fan.)
7) Editors pestering me to get shit done on deadline for my various columns/freelance articles;
8) People sending me links to their blogs;
9) People writing to say howdy, or sending me something suitably relevant.
10) Responses to my ads on Gumtree, flatsharing and unpaid traffic fines.
But whatever. The two ladies who sent me emails about their parallel universes were wonderful to read. Two girls, mind you, who have also met British chaps. And are in love. And are moving over to the country of red buses and crumpets. As a result of.
Which brings me to my life in pie chart.
These are the reasons, split up into sliceable chunks, of why I am moving to the UK.
The emails were great to read, for these very selfish reasons.
1) Misery loves company.
2) I am not the only person in the world to fall in love with someone who hails from a wet island over 10 000 kilometres away.
3) Does this make me (and my situation?) very nearly almost slightly normal?
4) There are others out there feeling and doing the same things as I.
5) They are as happy as I am.
Trust me, it's like eating a punnet of Haagen-Dazs reading the details of these emails.
I am not alone.