How did I get here? Here, living in Guildford, England. Here, working for Lionhead Studios, and by extension Microsoft. Here, developing a game that I am eager to tell everyone all about — and that I can tell no one about.
How did I get here? That’s a good question. I remember most every detail of the process. Idle chatter leading to international phone calls. Skype chats following after planning and emails. Flights across the ocean. Hotels with rooms named for Sir Francis Drake. Getting lost and finding a taxi. Interviews, interviews, interviews. A night with new friends at a pub. Flights back across the ocean. Marital discussions and negotiations. Documentation, passports, probing and lengthy applications, fingerprints, and rushed work visas.
And then. Planning and packing with a sudden and illogical love of logistics. Saying goodbye to good friends and colleagues. Giving away furniture. Selling her car. Loading everything onto a container ship. Loading everything else into the SUV. Coping with anxious pets and more anxious wife. Driving across America. Inga asleep to my right. Up and over the Rockies. (Inga asleep again.) Bridging the Mississippi. (Yup, still asleep.) Baseball games. Beloved Midwestern steakhouse dinner. Visiting my relatives. Her relatives. Selling my car. Rewriting college application essays — no, not ours. Landing in Amherst. Getting a vet. Relaxing with her family before the final plunge. Mourning the absence from beloved dogs.
Back to transatlantic flights, taxis, and hotels. Generously furnished flat. Housing search. First day at the new job. Learning as fast as I can, drinking the proverbial fire hose.