Like A Rolling Stone

Sorting my clothes into my 'coming with me' bag and my 'going into a friend's loft' bags, I get a certain sense of déjà vu. It feels like I was doing this very recently.. then I look around my room and realize I was only doing this recently. I've lived in this room for barely three months and back everything goes into boxes and bags.. at this rate I honestly wonder why I unpack anything ever.

Not that I'm unhappy, on the contrary, this is the most excited I've been whilst packing up all this stuff.. but for a moment the future is on hold and the present demands procrastination. So the past draws my thoughts back to June of last year.

At that time I was just throwing everything into bags, moving in with Charlotte for a few weeks while I prepared to move properly all the way here to London town. It was a busy time. Moving it all to hers was the easy bit. Then I had to sort some of it into storage, sort what I could into transportable bags, and leave some tokens behind with her. It was emotional. It was difficult. Not just for the two of us, but for me and the whole city. I was leaving behind my four years of independence, my university, my job, my house, my friends, even my bear. (For those who were not aware, I have a teddy called Snail, who had been with me since I was 8 years old, and currently sleeps next to Charlotte, watching over her for me. He's the only one I would trust to do so.)

Above all the job was the hardest to leave. Don't misunderstand me, leaving Charlotte was hellish but I knew we would see each other regularly, and we do. Leaving a job I'd held for over two years, though, leaving that warm, safe environment, that was worse than leaving home. That's me leaving behind financial stability and security, opportunities in Theatre I'd only dreamed of having before, and people who truly cared for and supported each other. The leaving party they threw for me was one of the best nights I've ever had.

But everything changes. And if you've heard my life story, you'll understand that staying still isn't something I'm very good at. So here I am, a year and a bit later, packing my things to leave London (for a while, anyway), and again it's the job that's going to be hardest to say goodbye to.

Granted I'm coming back to work over my Christmas break, and yes I'll be there again for the long term in February, but still. I'll miss 'em. And I've been assured that I'll be missed too. And that's nice, I suppose, because if people don't miss you while you're gone, then you probably didn't do much good whilst you were there.

There's some food for thought, minions. Eat up.