Yes, it’s true
Jan.25, 2006, filed under Miscellany
I am moving to Scotland.
I realise I haven’t made a proper announcement yet. My last day in employment with the EA is 17th February. I start my new job, based in Fife, on the 13th March. So big changes in RF Devon. The more observant of you will have seen elsewhere on the site that I grew up in Fife, so I am moving home.
I’m still a bit in shock, I think, as I only really decided to get serious about doing something about moving back up north a couple of months ago. There was a flurry of interviews and it felt like I was spending more time on the Virgin Plymouth – Edinburgh than I was spending in my own bed, all of which I somehow managed to accomplish without my present boss finding out despite each interview requiring me to be off work for three days.
Now I have to start thinking about selling the house (2 – 3 bed, great views, Rayburn, big kitchen, wildlife garden, specially-outfitted extension dedicated to bicycle storage complete with en suite, nice commuter distance from Exeter if anyone out there is interested) and moving up there, wondering when Frood will be able to move up and whether he’ll be able to get a job fairly quickly…
They say that some of the most stressful experiences you can have include moving house and changing job. I’m doing both of those things.
But, to paraphrase the Old Man, change or die. There’s no way we could carry on with the way things are at the moment. This is the right moment for change – I suppose it has to be. Steam engine time. It wouldn’t have all happened so quickly otherwise.
We’ve been down here for four years, nearly five now. That’s about average for us. I still dream about being a cycle messenger-come-comic writer-come-superhero, but we’ll get ourselves up there first and see what happens.
And it’s close to Edinburgh airport so I might get to see more of Maura, which would be a huge bonus.
I keep having an image in my mind of this woman who was once a little girl who wanted nothing more than a name, sitting in a clearing picking at the moss. She has a name now. She has many names, not all of them to her liking. She’s been kept there for long enough that she’s somewhat institutionalised but she can’t stay. Even the moss is thinning and fading away.
And the Old Man turns up and looks down at her with a smile and just says: “Time to go.”
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Singularity
~something that is singular as (a) a separate unit, or (b) unusual or distinctive manner or behavior; PECULIARITY;
~the quality or state of being singular;
~a point at which the derivative of a given function of a complex variable does not exist but every neighborhood of which contains points for which the derivative exists;
~a point or region of infinite mass density at which space and time are infinitely distorted by gravitational forces and which is held to be the final state of matter falling into a black hole. Sight
