There are moments in life that stand out like landmarks by which we measure the progress of our own journey, our befores and afters. Sometimes we know we’re in them, but often we don’t. Right now I am pretty sure I am in the thick of one such moment. With weeks of ‘lasts’ behind me I’m now on a plane heading for Singapore and right into the unknown. From here my journey is as yet uncharted.
The last few weeks have been hectic for me. Since announcing to friends that I was leaving the UK my time has been spent socialising and trying to prepare for the big move ‘down under.’ It’s been a strange experience in many respects. I’ve paid more attention to the seemingly mundane tasks of daily life. Trips to the shops, going to the gym, driving my car, relaxing in my bath, routines that might otherwise pass with little thought took on a different flavor as their end drew closer.
Having a date upon which everything would change really focused my thinking. I wanted to see everyone, to gather up the crumbs of time amid the familiar so as not to miss a thing. It was like taking tiny sips of a glass of fine wine that was nearly empty, not so much to finish the drink, but so as to enjoy the aroma and really squeeze the value out of those last few drops.
I didn’t have a leaving party. As odd as it might seem, I didn’t want one. I was happy to just pack up my things and move on, I was already spending a great deal of time with my friends on what amounted to a ‘goodbye tour’ so there seemed little point in a last hurrah.
I did, however, declare my last full day at the apartment an ‘open house.’ I figured a few of my friends might turn up in the evening and, over a cup of tea, help me pack a few of the last boxes. In the end though the packing never happened. From 11:30am the guests never stopped coming, and as inconvenient as that was in regards to my packing, it was a wonderful and unexpected surprise to spend that time with my friends.
Having my place full of friends is just about the most enjoyable thing I can think of, and the fact that so many of them came was extremely touching and humbling for me. I’ll probably remember that day as being one of the best times at the flat above the hairdressers, which itself has so far been my favorite place I’ve ever lived.
Despite the preparation and planning, that the final day crept up on me. After more than eleven years the day I would move out had arrived. A last surge of effort and help from Will and Henry meant that the flat was essentially empty pretty quickly. I’d sold some of my furniture to the next tenant, but the things that had made that place my home were gone.
I took one last walk around the apartment, checking that I had everything I needed and just bringing my relationship with the place to an end. The finality was dawning on me as the now empty rooms echoed slightly and looked almost desolate in their bareness. I felt like a stranger in my old home, looking at the few things that were left and wondering what kind of person had lived there. The clues gave little of the story away, memories melted silently into the lifeless walls and whatever secrets the old place could tell were clearly going to remain secret.
I won’t lie to you, that bit was hard. I stood in my living room and looked out of the window at the now leafless tree that has for so long been a fixture in my life. Out loud I said goodbye, my voice quiet and low. It was a moment, a sad one, a farewell to follow so many of the last few weeks. But this time there was no farewell back, just the slight reverberation of my voice against the bare walls then pure silence.
I’m not one for tears or outward signs of raw emotion, but walking into the salon downstairs to surrender my keys was very hard indeed. The girls and I had already had an emotional goodbye earlier in the day, so I wanted this one to be light hearted and brief. But I couldn’t hold it together. Wenda my landlady, and the girls from the salon downstairs have been a huge part of my life for years so I suppose it was a given that there was never going to be an unemotional goodbye between us. I will miss them for sure.
And with that I left. Giving up the keys for the apartment meant that I had no keys at all. I put them on the desk and my hand was empty. For the first time in my adult life I didn’t have a bunch of keys, not even one, and oddly enough it was that feeling that really gave me the sense of being untethered and free of the anchors that hold us in place. Such was the impact of this realisation that when I got into Will’s waiting car I said “I have no keys.”
So now, after a couple of nights at Will’s house I find myself at London Heathrow airport, boarding card and passport in my pocket, my hand luggage tossed over my shoulder. I’ve packed my life into a few boxes and stored them in Will’s garage and Henry’s loft, and compressed the life I’m taking with me to just two bags and one item of carry-on luggage.
The sadness of all those goodbyes has given way to excitement. I find myself feeling giddy like a child, as pumped up as a sport star before the big event. This is it. Everything I’ve been doing has lead to this place, to flight 319 bound for Singapore from London’s Heathrow Airport, then in a few days another flight to Melbourne, Australia.
As the plane takes off I look out of the window at the now darkened ground disappearing beneath me, put my hand against the glass and say my final farewell. I’ll return to these shores of course, but for now the new adventure begins. We’re airborne and from here everything is new and the road ahead is tantalizingly unknown.
—
All good things
As one door closes
Wrote the following comment on Dec 7, 2010 at 5:12 pm
Just as I was getting over the immediate loss of you leaving….. You bloody well go and write about it! The wife and I were very happy to share some of that last evening with you. I’m sad you’ve gone – largely because I am not convinced you will ever be back up this way. But I am very excited for you and the adventure that lies ahead. And I hope we can spend some time with you In your new home this time next year. Take care and keep in touch.
Wrote the following comment on Dec 7, 2010 at 6:55 pm
It was a pleasure to spend those last few days with you mate. I’m excited about this new chapter of your life, I think you’re going to fit right in down under :-)
Good job really, you were running out of pretty girls in England ;-)
Wrote the following comment on Dec 7, 2010 at 7:26 pm
Europe just became a slightly colder place and Australia got lucky.
Good luck geezer!
Wrote the following comment on Dec 7, 2010 at 10:04 pm
I hope you will enjoy your firsts as much as your lasts, maybe try to do them just as conscious ;-)
good-byes are an odd thing. and because you can never actually say what you wanted to say during the final moment I prefer the hit and run method… :-)
Wrote the following comment on Dec 7, 2010 at 10:19 pm
Does it feel strange receiving comments from strangers? No more strange than walking, (or flying) into a new life full of strangers I suppose.)
I like your writing style Simon, you write as if you’re talking to friends and of course you are, sometimes. But to those of us who don’t know you personally, it’s nice, because your writing is inclusive and not just that, it draws us in.
Most of this post was, naturally sentimental and personal, but you have included small details which have great impact on everyone; like not having any keys and finding a different flavour in previously mundane tasks.
I recommended your previous post to friends of mine, one of which said “He should write a book.” Perhaps this is it, a book in the making?
Bon route! I eagerly await the next instalment. Thanks for sharing.
Wrote the following comment on Dec 7, 2010 at 10:46 pm
That must be a strange feeling having no keys. You are indeed in the thick of it there my friend!
Wrote the following comment on Dec 7, 2010 at 11:07 pm
Everyone thinks he should write a book, but he’s too god damn lazy :-) That or host a Louis Theroux type TV show.
Wrote the following comment on Dec 8, 2010 at 12:46 am
Simon,
You should have a “Where in the world is Simon” feature on your blog… so we can track you on google maps?!
: )
J
Wrote the following comment on Dec 8, 2010 at 2:36 am
This post was by far one of the most brilliant poignant pieces you’ve written thus far. I’m not sure whether to smile, cry, or just reach out to a stranger for a hug. The bit about having no keys was metaphorically profound…and I am most envious. What is best is that you have no keys; but keep your roots…you hold tight to your friends, old and new. Let me know when your roots need some southern watering…I’ll come visit.
Wrote the following comment on Dec 8, 2010 at 3:04 am
No keys. That sounds very appealing to me.
Wrote the following comment on Dec 8, 2010 at 5:11 am
Keys can be replace. Ur girls are now feel with sad we have no simon!
Wrote the following comment on Dec 8, 2010 at 11:52 pm
good luck mr adventure i will follow u for a wee while and wish u luck and humour along the way freecycle downunder? xx moleydee
Wrote the following comment on Dec 9, 2010 at 7:14 pm
I think this a the book in production.
Wrote the following comment on Dec 10, 2010 at 9:31 am
I wonder how this whole experience will change your outlook on life? I wonder what you’ll end up missing the most? I’ll stay tuned.
Wrote the following comment on Dec 10, 2010 at 1:41 pm
Sorry for the late response. Life is still a little on the hectic side at the moment with the travels, and living out of my 2 suitcases, and one small backpack. However, I do want to reply to some of these comments individually, so here goes…
@ Garry – Very pleased to see your name in my comments Garry. I was really pleased that you and Kelly came over and that you popped by on the morning I left to. Switch Skype on sometime and we’ll catch up.
@ Wilvo – Now stop that spreading gossip you! :)
@ Mira – Yeah the ‘hit and run’ method seemed a good idea to me too. All those goodbye’s take it out of you for sure as you know.
@ Paula – It’s funny you ask about comments. My friend Garry said he doesn’t like leaving comments because he knows me and can just talk to me. While that is of course true, like any blogger I love to get comments. It is a very easy way to reach out from across the internet and say ‘I heard you’ to me.
Now, more than ever, I think comments will mean more to me from not just people I don’t know, but the people I do know, because I’ve cut ties with the familiarities of my ‘old life’ and I’m heading more or less alone into new territory. So please, don’t stop commenting, and if you’re a silent reader please consider making a comment from time to time. Good, bad, or boring, you should know they are always very very welcome as far as I am concerned
As for any book… I’d like to see that one day, so who knows. :-)
@ Jon – A google streetmap integration would be fun. I can geotag the posts but I don’t at the moment so as to not slow the site down.
@ Susan – I could get a big head with comments like that. Thanks Susan :-)
@ Dee – Thanks Dee. I’m delighted that a fellow freecycler has logged in to see how I’m getting on. I’m joining Freecycle in Australia too!
@ Everyone… I love reading your comments and value the feedback immensely. Please keep them coming and know that I read them all.
Wrote the following comment on Dec 13, 2010 at 7:12 am
So I guess you’re on “walkabout” then, like Crocodile Dundee?
Wrote the following comment on Dec 14, 2010 at 3:04 pm
Well I can only consider it a very random coincidence and priviledge to have been on flight 319 with you! Looking forward to the updates on the adventure :)