Year's end

I'm sitting at my desk at work today; I always volunteer for one of the three working days between Christmas and New Year - I think the boss should set an example, and not ask people to do something I'm not prepared to do myself. It's, of course, extremely quiet - I'm basically here to support one other person who has to be here, and he'll be leaving early this afternoon. At which point I'll shut up shop for the year. For the last time. This year end working has become a familiar ritual for me, and although there will be several work-related things which I've done for the last time already, this will be a clear and obvious one. Never again will I go round, checking the doors and windows are locked; making sure no-one's been overlooked; setting the alarm and notifying security that we're all out, and if the alarm goes, it's not us. (One year, it was someone I'd missed, although he hadn't signed in, so I didn't know he was there...)

I'm not getting as much work done as I intended - it's always a bit difficult to get motivated when it's this quiet - and partly that's down to the distractions I have on my desk. One is a wonderful coffee-table type book full of glorious photographs of BC (Zoë's last Christmas present), and the other is a fax.

This fax is the final confirmation of the decision from HRSDC. We are allowed to come to Canada, and contrary to the information we had earlier, we are confirmed for the full 3 years, which takes some of the pressure off when it comes to getting permanent residence organised. It's here; next step is the Work Permits, the application for which are all prepared, and then we just have to sell the house.

Let's go!

Breaking Away

We've been up in Aberdeen for Christmas, and I have just spent the whole of Boxing Day driving back home. Good thing, too - the weather is reported to be about to turn wintry, and I don't particularly want to make that journey in the snow. Although it would have been good practice, I suppose.

A strange thing happened as I was hauling up the hill out of Aberdeen, the car protesting at having to drag several hundredweight of presents; I started to think about my reaction to leaving Aberdeen, the place of my birth. I was, for some reason, a little sad, although I will certainly be back before we go, and I have previous on this 'leaving Aberdeen' thing:

I first left home in 1980, to go to University in Edinburgh. It was a hard thing to do at the time, for various reasons, but it was the best decision I ever made. I looked forward to getting home every so often, but I also thoroughly enjoyed my four years in Edinburgh, and part of me wishes I'd stayed there. After that, I spent another year - this would be 1985 - in Aberdeen, but I was chafing to get away; I'd already left home once, and it was time do make the break more permanent. When I left that time - to go to Inverness, as I noted before - it felt right; the way forward (although my family was not so sure). After that, Aberdeen felt less and les like home as the years went by. Until we left Scotland (for good, it seems) in 1989, I was in Aberdeen regularly and frequently; once we came south, I hardly went back at all.

In the last 15 years, I've been 'home' about once a year, and there have been times when I've gone way longer than 12 months away from the place. So today should not have felt any different, really. But it did. It really did. Aberdeen is no longer the place where I grew up - how could it be - and so many things have changed that I barely recognise it, yet I'll miss it, and not just because it's where my parents live - I'll miss the familiarity of it; knowing that it's just an hour's flight away, if need be.

But I'm a traveller at heart, and what I'm really looking forward to is having a new place to call home, and how that will feel when the time comes, as it surely will one day, to leave there.

Goodbye, part 1

I'm sitting here with my resignation letter in front of me. It's about two months since I told my boss, and over those weeks, I've gradually been telling more and more people, although nothing has been concrete until now.

I worte it without a moment's hesitation - it didn't occur to me to wonder what to write, or agonise over the wording; I knew what I wanted to say, and I said it.

But now it's real. The letter says I will be leaving 'no earlier than' March 19th, and in truth, by April I will be gone. The job I took as a stopgap in September 1989 - something to get us over the worst period in our lives, with Zoë unable to work, and me redundant, slowly turned into a roller-coaster ride of fun and frustration in equal measure. For a time I didn't leave because I didn't know what else I could do; then for a long time, I was enjoying it too much to contemplate doing anything else. A couple of years ago, I was fed up, stuck in a rut, and ready to go. We started to talk about and plan Canada, and for the first time, I could see a way forward.

Then, with typical inevitability, the job became engrossing and exciting. I knew it couldn't last, and indeed it hasn't, but it will be much harder now to walk away than it would have been 18 months ago.

Still, I'm ready. And the letter's on my desk; just needs an envelope.

And then I can start saying goodbye properly.

Falling into place

I've been out this morning - visiting one of our customers, in the hope of finally securing electronic trading between our two companies after some 5 years of trying. The meeting went well, and I'm remarkably hopeful that all will come together in the next few weeks.

When I return, bearing mince pies for the team (well, it is Christmas - more or less), I have several dozen emails, as usual. One of them is in my Personal mailbox, and naturally, this is the one I look at first.

It's from Zoë, and it contains 'good news and bad news' - HRSDC have approved our application, but only for one year.

We're going. We really are going.

I should feel more elated, I think, but the 'one year' stipulation is a little worrying - we'll have to apply for permanent residence as soon as we arrive, really, and there is always the risk (although HRSDC make encouraging noises about applying for an extension) that we might be stateless after 12 months. Also, there are a number of unanswered questions about when this period starts, and how quickly we'll be able to get work permits (and also the great unknown about when we will be able to sell the house), but realistically, I should be getting excited.

TIme enough for that, I think. For now, I'm keeping it quiet, and I'll be writing a resignation letter over the weekend. Then it will feel real.