A Week of Lasts

This time next week I should be boarding my plane at Heathrow. That means that this is my last week in the UK for, well, I don’t know how long. I’m sure I will be back, I just don’t know when, and that means that this week has become ‘a week of lasts’. It’s ridiculous and irrational but I can’t help myself. Tonight was the last time I’ll go to the local historical society talk. On Wednesday I have two lasts – last time I’ll be in Bristol and last trip to the cinema. Thursday is also planned to be another day with two lasts – last roast dinner and last meal with both mum and Jo. Then it’s my last weekend at home. Then it’s my last night in my bed. Then it’s my last day. My last look around the garden, my last filling of the bird feeders, my last cup of tea, my last hug with Huxley. . . 

That’s not to say that I’m not excited – I really am, and I’m getting more so with each day. It’s just that to start something new you need to end something old and old things are familiar and comforting and new is new and exciting but also scary and full of unknowns. So I’m walking round feeling torn – mourning my old life and looking forward to my new one. 

The weather definitely helps – storm Imogen has been blowing a gale all day and hearing the rain, wind and occasional hail lashing against the windows hasn’t really endeared me to the current climate. Natural warmth from the sun will be extremely welcome (though because I’m British I know that within 5 minutes I’ll be complaining that it’s too hot. We’re never happy when it comes to weather!). unfortunately, the hideousness of the weather makes it hard to believe that there are places that are hot. They feel pretty much mythical right now as every trip outside requires a thick coat and ear muffs. I feel foolhardy packing shorts and te-shirts, even though I can see weather forecasts for Bangkok and Perth which give temperatures in the mid-high 30s and temperatures at night which I can currently only achieve with the central heating on full blast. 

I have a definite sense of melancholia that is proving hard to shift. As I say, it’s not because I don’t want to move, it’s because stepping into the unknown is scary, especially when that unknown feels impossible because my stupid brain can’t seem to understand that just because it is cold and dark here, it can be sunny and warm elsewhere. I’ve been to the southern hemisphere before – I know how it works, it’s just there is a difference between intellectually knowing something and being able to make the more primitive part of my brain understand that what is see out of the window isn’t all that there is. There is a bigger world out there. An exciting one with loads of new things to experience, and next week I will start to explore one small part of that bigger world. I should be excited. I AM excited. I just wish I didn’t feel like I was trying to convince myself of that.