The clock is ticking, the sands of time…you get the point. The fact that we’ll be apart for a while has become real enough for us to stop talking about it – we’re just getting on with the things that need doing. I have landed myself a part time internship just up the road from Tarifa in Algeciras, starting September.
I hadn’t hoped to have a job before I’d even got there, but then I hadn’t factored in the miracle of the internet or more specifically, of Skype. I don’t work for them and this isn’t product placement, but seriously. Big up to Skype. Nuff respeck, or whatever it is.
So that’s it, I’m an English teacher.
Packing is in the final stages – stuff that was on our walls is no longer on our walls, we eat from paper plates some nights, and I can’t find anything. I tell myself that if I can’t find it, then I probably don’t need it.
Then I ask myself, So why did we pack it?
I will do my best to squeeze a months’ living into a couple of bags and K will stay here with umpteen boxes and the lagomorph. I think half of the boxes are full of her shoes so I have little sympathy there, but I do feel bad leaving them to tie up loose ends and arrange the shipping and the rest of it, particularly as I am not at all convinced that the lagomorph will be much help.
There she is now, tucking into a cardboard box. Hardly the attitude, is it?
I’ll be discovering the joys of police stations, banks, estate agents, classifieds and possibly one or two very odd landlord types, but at least it will be discovery. For K, just worry and hassle for another little while, till she follows me out. She’ll have a lot on her plate and neither of us will relish the separation. Well I won’t anyway. So we don’t talk about it.
We just get on with it.