The Final Word

It's a grey Sunday in London, so it seems appropriate to get back onto my blog for one last time before moving on to greener pastures - well, lighter, brighter, warmer, with any luck. Because d-day - departure day, that is - looms large on the horizon, moving ever closer, and suddenly, I find that I only have a couple of days left as a Londoner. And it's a very strange feeling, let me tell you. I am currently homeless, unemployed, and whittling my possessions down to the smallest number I can bear. Somehow, I think I wouldn't survive as one of those people who are perpetually on the road, but by the standards of a pack rat like myself, the last three and a half years has been condensed to a scarily small pile of possessions.

The goodbyes have all been said, and I'm beginning to realise just how much I'm going to miss certain people when I'm no longer in the same country, continent, hemisphere. Because as much as I might bemoan the lack of possessions at the moment, the things that I'm also whittling down, like friends, acquaintances and flatmates, are the things that have meant the most.

I know. I don't normally go in for the touchy feely stuff. In fact, I normally run from it at a speed that people who have seen me exercise are astonished by. My hockey career could have been very different had I been able to put on such a turn of speed on the pitch (and if I had skills, but hey, that doesn't make such a nice image, does it...). But here I am, feeling the urge to get all gushy. Make the most of it, these moments don't come around too often, and I still can't manage to do it with any degree of sincerity and without resorting to cliches.

There are people I won't miss. The friend of a friend who came around this afternoon to buy my sewing machine, and spewed phoney declarations of a friendship we never had for the entire time she was here. The person who I saw for what we both knew would be the last time a couple of weeks back, who promptly went home after that night's drinks and unfriended me on Facebook. I also won't be missing London's air quality, the pavement pizzas to be found after pretty much every Saturday night, the men who turn all of the city into their own personal lavatory. I won't be coming back any time soon because of the lure of those things.

But there are people that I am going to miss, because they bring their own unique quality to a friendship. Jones, with her ability to bring bowel movements into pretty much any conversation. Chris, and her involved love life, the twists and turns of which are better than any novel yet published. L, the most motherly flatmate imaginable, with her tendency to voice every thought that enters her head, even if it's just a commentary on what she's doing at the time. C, sweet, giggly, and hilarious when tipsy. The core group of those who were out with me until 2am this morning, the chief causes of my husky voice when I eventually surfaced from a deep sleep today. They are the ones who have made living here, away from old friends and family, not only bearable, but enormously fun. And I will miss them. Drunken promises of catching up in Sydney for New Years Eve had better be followed through on...but just in case, I plan to annoy people on email until they come visit me, just to keep me quiet.

But that's the thing with leaving somewhere. My intentions are good, and so are those of the people staying behind. But the bittersweet truth is that, over time, there will undoubtedly be drifting apart. The number of people who keep in touch with will shrink. I think I know who will fall by the wayside, and who will last. But from here on in, the things that have come so easily while in London will require work. And I'm not known for my work ethic. So if you're one of the people I'm talking to, and you don't hear from me for a while, rest assured that I'm not ignoring you. I'm just distracted. I will get back to you at some point...just bear with me, that's all.

Meanwhile, off to America for me...Five weeks of Thelma and Louise style antics with L. Although hopefully without the murder or the messy ending. But I wouldn't mind if we ran into a Brad Pitt along the way...