Burning the past

It's a strange feeling, packing up your life in one country. It's not like you're just moving houses. You're moving country. Which means so much more. It means you need to cancel your phone (which I haven't done yet). It means you have to decide what is worth shipping over and what you can throw out (which I have partially done). It means saying goodbye to people you love (which I haven't done yet, and which terrifies me). It means quitting your job (which I have done). There's so much stuff you need to do!

Tonight, I burned my bank statements. And other pieces of paper which I don't want to take with me but don't want to throw out because they have sensitive information on them. So me and the housemate that is still my housemate had a fire and burned some of his crap, and at the same time we burned my English identity. That's what it felt like. Like my English life just went up into flames. Very weird. And very strange. But it is a new chapter. As a (former) colleague told me on Friday, it is a new beginning. That'w hos I need to look at it.

I also have (had) the most amazing job with the most amazing people. They threw me one hell of a leaving party. With lots of laughs. Lots of hugs. Lots of drinks. Lots of love. I will never forget it. They are a good bunch. Some of the best. In case you were wondering.

4 days, 5 nights, left of my life in England. It's still incredibly surreal. I don't know if I'll get it even when I am on that plane. Life will never be the same again. That's for sure.