The end of an era

Today was my last day at work. I've been working there for over 18 months now, yet everyone seems to say "that was quick" when I tell them I'm leaving. 18 months, however, seems like a long time to me: travelling to the same place every morning, sitting at the same desk. I've never done such a rigid routine for such a long time in my life.

So today left me with a bundle of emotions sitting in my stomach: Excitement (I'm going to live with C!) and fear (I'm going to live with C!), but also nostalgia and fondness for people and places. I've seen my colleagues more often over the past year and a half than either of my parents, my brother or my boyfriend (probably more often than all of them put together). My colleagues and I have laughed and growled together, sung and danced together, invented office volleyball together... But because they are not linked into my life in other ways - we don't meet at the weekend, we don't go to the pub, we don't email - I don't know when I will see them again, unlike my other London friends. So today feels like a real ending. I do sincerely hope to see them all again. I just don't know when that will happen.


We did various special things to mark my leaving. Last Friday we made time to be particularly silly, singing along to the best karaoke songs that YouTube had to offer, and having a paper aeroplane competition (may I point out that we worked VERY hard the rest of the time... and the accountant won the competition. She is cunning and very clever!). We felt that it was necessary to get all that silliness out of the way because this week we have been working with my replacement, and as we hadn't met her at that point, we weren't sure if she was up for being silly. The past 5 days have thankfully shown us that she is more than capable of silliness and fun in general. It's nice to know Friday karaoke may have a chance of continuing.


This Friday was an altogether different affair. We worked hard all morning; there were things to finish off, goodbyes to email. And then LUNCH. Lunches involving the whole office have always been a long and boozy affair at my work, especially if it's a leaving/welcome lunch. We feasted, debated, laughed and in my case, cried... that was due to an unfortunate incident when I spilled a glass of red wine over my boss. Oh dear! (So nearly got out of the place without embarrassing myself!). He was as kind and jovial as anyone could be in such a situation (he was wearing a cream linen suit - eeek!), and my tears were half from laughter. Really it seems like an appropriate ending. I always seem to make my mark by ending on a ridiculous note.


As you can see from the photo above, I was quickly forgiven, and not only that, but sent off with wonderful gifts (thank you Hannah and Mui!) and incredibly generous words of encouragement. I am a bit scared of heading up north without a job in hand, but my colleagues have taken the edge off my anxiety, and made me feel utterly appreciated for the work I have done for them.

So it's the end of an era, and the start of a new one too, but I do hope that I will be able to drop by at the office again soon. I don't want to leave only distant memories and wine stains...

Being grown up and poorly

I have been living away from home for a long time now, since 2003. There are many advantages and disadvantages of moving away from the shelter of your parents' dwellings.

I loved learning to look after myself: to cook, to wash my clothes, to pay for my own essential items. I liked having that responsibility. Why I couldn't have embraced these tasks when I was actually living at home I do not know, because they would have been a great help to the aforementioned parents, but all I can say in my defense is that it is not uncommon for teenagers to behave in lazy and selfish ways from time to time, and I was no exception.

Away from the nest, friends became the major companions in my life. At uni we ate together, studied together, panicked and suffered and squirmed together. We would party, and we would play at being adults who did things like have dinner parties and that was great. My friends from my year working in Paris were amazing for exploring: we learned so much about the city and each other; countries, languages and people. And London has been such a strange muddle of school friends, college friends, new colleagues and housemates and friends of friends and a massive city mingled in between us all. Strange responsibilities like council tax, gas bills and landlords arose, which I had never had to deal with before... C soon became a part of the mix for a weekend or two each month, and when he visited it was wonderful. He shared the city and the fun, and even the chores with me. Most important, he shared my days, my space and - unusually for me - I didn't mind making room and time for him one bit.

Soon I will be sharing a lot of my space and time with him, and although I am a little daunted, as I have discussed, I am also eagerly anticipating this closeness. It will be the first time I will have lived with someone, rather than just alongside them, since leaving home. On this occasion hopefully most of the traces of teen-laziness will have been washed away by the puddles of experience I've splashed through since 2003.

To go back to my original title, the worst thing I have discovered about living as a independent human being is what happens when you feel unwell. Being queezy at work is horrible, taking the bus when your stomach and head are spinning in different directions is horrendous, and returning to an empty house, where you have to nurse yourself, is so lonely.

This set of circumstances are what happened to me today. I am feeling a lot better now - I have managed to hold down a handful of fishfingers and a small slice of arctic roll so far this evening - but days like these, along with the thankfully infrequent other occasions in the past 6 years when I've been ill, always make me long for my Mum's special care, which consisted of carrying the TV and video up to your bedroom so that you could lie in a poorly stupor under your duvet, marinading in your favourite films, and also, if you were up to it, chicken soup, or some other such remedy.

C did text me from Manchester today to offer to make me soup, but the minor matter of 200 miles was standing in his way. He'll have to wait another couple of weeks before he can have the opportunity to try out his nursing skills. I'll let you know how he compared to Mum.

Tying up Loose Ends

On Friday I'm off to Manchester for a wedding, so the past two weekends in London have been special, because they were my last in my house before the Big Pack Up takes place in two weeks time. The sun has shone in London, and I've seen or telephoned most of my favourite people. Now that it's all over, and the countdown has truely begun, I am feeling nostalgic.

Friends outside in the square outside the Prince of Wales pub

London is beautiful in the summer. The days are longer, people loosen up a bit and smile more, and hours are spent outdoors calmly conversing and considering the world. All this makes it feel harder to leave London behind. Everything is just getting started. Parties are being planned, barbeques bought, holidays booked. Meanwhile, I am trying to fit in everything I need and want to do before I leave: Quality time with my beloveds, visiting my favourite places, exploring new undiscovered places, returning borrowed belongings, using up the food in the cupboards.

The view from Primrose Hill

This weekend I walked through Regent's Park and climbed Primrose Hill for the first time, just in time to catch the sun setting. It was stunning, standing at the breezy summit, surrounded by green and trees, with the city centre just on the other side of the park. I was taken there by an old school friend, who I haven't spent time with for ages, and even though I had a great time, it's sad that it won't be repeated soon, and I probably won't climb that hill again for months, perhaps years.

Tom waves goodbye

I've also started trying to use up all the baking ingredients that have been lingering in our cupboards. My two housemates and I have all gone through phases of dabbling in a little baking, and somehow we've managed to end up with 3 open pots of cocoa, 2 pots of baking powder and countless bags of flour. So I've been throwing together my old favourite, sponge cakes, and trying out new recipes, like scones. I've come to really enjoy my weekly whisking/kneading sessions. Sitting around enjoying the products of my handywork with my friends is a very pleasant way to spend an afternoon.

My first batch of scones

The ultimate "using-up" challenge took place last night, when my housemates and I roasted a joint of pork that we've had in the freezer for over 6 months (is that safe?). We named it Pig Day. It has been planned for several weeks because we're almost never in the house at the same time as each other, and so, Pig Day was the appointed Last Supper of our cosy abode in Kennington. None of us have ever successful roasted pork before, so we put out trust in Delia, and made crackling, roast potatoes and gravy.

Pig Day is served

As you can see from the picture above, it was a feast, and a memorable way to enjoy our last Sunday dinner together.

So I have had two wonderful weekends, that have given me even more 'London' memories to treasure. The problem that I've discovered with tying up loose ends, however, is that it seems to make me more entangled, more bound to the people and the places than ever.