Thursday, December 31, 2009

Breaking with the past

As the rest of the world is out partying, I'm sitting in my new home reflecting on the turn of the year. 2009 has been turbulent, with children flying the nest and my own life moving into a new stage. The last fortnight has been a succession of breaks with the past, each one tinged with a little sadness.

I said goodbye to my old colleagues, friends and students with a leaving party and a private showing of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. One of my students sang for the gathered throng, and raised a collective chuckle and groan when he looked meaningfully at me and sang "I get a kick out of you". I've always given tough tutorials...

Then five days of moving, tearing up and down motorways with cars full of pieces of my life in carrier bags and boxes.
The new suite is awesome, and my bed is humongous;
the piano was a close thing but the piano-movers did their magic and it now graces my sitting room.
Bertie and Mab are well settled and everything except my books is now put away.

The final break was a more physical one. My last moving-in chore was a trip to stock up with food and household stuff, and as I was unloading the car, Bertie managed to escape. I didn't notice his absence until later on, so set out in the snow as it was getting dark to look for him. This is a friendly village, and as I passed people I asked them to look out for a lost dog. Just as I was giving up for the night, my phone rang, and the chap on the phone told me he had found my dog, and would I like to join their Christmas party when I came to collect him? Their gracious hospitality was tested to the limit when I slipped on the ice just outside their house and broke my wrist.

People have been kind and generous: my next door neighbour walked Bertie until the ice melted, and one of the party-goers I met has called in to ask if I need any shopping. My hostess and friends dragged me off to the pub to try out the anaesthetic effects of Old Hooky, and my new colleague invited me round for Christmas lunch when he heard that I wasn't able to drive to spend the day with Second Son.

I'm excited as the first day of my new job approaches, and happy in my new home. And yet... New Year's Eve is a time when regret is allowed a little space. I miss the dear friends who made life so varied in my old home, and I would give much for someone to share a glass of champagne with as the bells ring out the old year. But perhaps this is the most potent way to break with the past - to keep the vigil, to let go of the past and to face the future alone. It's going to be good.