I think writing a journal may encourage me to dream in English.

For as long as I can remember I’ve wielded both English and Danish like a suitor with two roses, but Denmark is my ancestral home — it’s only natural that I think and dream in Danish. Now I’m moving to Great Britain — a dream come true in any language — and wish to adapt accordingly. I leave tomorrow. Mrs Mikkelsen has finished packing my things and I’ve bequeathed Maid Marian my favourite red blanket for her box. Poor cat, I hope the train journey isn’t too much of an upheaval.

I must go downstairs now for my goodbye dinner. Thor has been pretending to delight at the concept of having mama and papa all to himself, but he’s been wearing the biggest frown lately. I’ll miss him too. I’ll miss everyone.

My birthday wish is apple and raisin pie for pudding. You see? I’m British already.