It's Tuesday night and in a little over 24 hours I'll be arriving in Rome. This time in England is over: there is no automatic right of return to the place that for three years now I've called 'home'.
The final installment of "one mores" has been and gone - Phil and Sophie, musicians who've become dearly loved friends over the past two years, came round to dinner with Phil's son Matt, and we ended up having a final meal at Suwanna Thai, which I still think is the best Thai food in England (closely followed in the 'Far east eats' stakes by Georgetown in Leeds). We've given them custody of my leaving gifts from work, books on castles and medieval cookery, which I received a day early because they're too heavy to carry on the plane, and I'm going straight from the office to the airport.
My bags are packed, ready for the morning. They are hideously over the limit and I'm only praying that I don't have to pay more than 10kgs of excess baggage (the max my new employer will spring for in reimbursement). I've checked for the umpteenth time that I have my passport, and various internet receipts for my flight, shuttle to town and hotel. I start my new job in about 32 hours time and need to hit the ground running, so it all has to run like clockwork when I get in.
One final pint at the New Inn, to offer my thanks and best regards. Most of the regulars are in on Tuesdays, so there are good wishes and a quiet 'well done' from the landlord, Martin, who is also well travelled and understands that this new post is a bloody big deal.
I'm knackered, but I don't quite want to go to bed - I'm not ready for tomorrow to come. This feels like it's happening to someone else - all the buildup, the angst at work that prompted me to look for a new job, the thousands of times I asked Ants 'are you SURE you would really live in Italy, cos I'm taking this job if you say yes one more time', packing up the beautiful home we made together just a few short months ago, and now leaving friends behind who have also filled the shoes of our families who are so far away. And I have needed them - the work stuff over the past 6 months has been brutal. Even now that it's over, I do not feel I have the mental resources or resiliance I had, or am used to having, and I feel a bit under-manned and half dressed.
I'm nervous as hell on so many fronts - I kinda liked Rome, but I didn't love Rome at first sight the way I did with, say, Brussels, or Vienna, or even Hong Kong. Three months ago I had no serious thought of ever going to live in Italy, and I spoke only enough italian to order a pizza. (I'm not much better now, truth be told!).
Anthony is putting a lot of faith in me, by agreeing to put his career on hold and be a househusband, for six months if need be - although we hope to find him work, he has a knack for 'something turning up'. I'm scared I might hate it. I'm scared I might love it but he hates it. Most of all I'm scared of letting him down, that the gamble won't pay off and we can't make it back.
The one thing I'm truly confident about is the job itself. This is exactly the role I shaped myself for when I started my masters back in 2002 and have subconsciously worked towards ever since. I feel I was made for this job and, barring unforeseen dickheads in the office, feel certain I can make a success of it.
There's one more thing I'm confident of - Ants may have misgivings about this too, but he's prepared to back it, so I need to make it work. It's time now to sign off, head upstairs to our airbed on the floor one last time, tell my husband I love him, and get some sleep.
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