The End of an Era

Wow, it feels a bit weird to be writing on this blog again. Ok, technically I'm not writing on my blog at all, but rather in a new e-mail in outlook. Appearances are everything, you know how it goes.

No-one actually cares why I stopped writing, so I won't do the usual Blogger Guilt thing and go into lengthy explanations (Tangent: isn't it funny that we feel that way though? Like, why should we feel BAD for being self absorbed enough to expect our reader's worlds will crumble without our daily ramblings? And did I really just start a sentence with 'like'?? I'm out of practice).

Nothing major happened; I am still alive, well and enjoying London as much as one can with all this godawful rain. I just got bored. And I firmly believe that if you don't have anything intelligent to say, you should keep your mouth shut. Nick Griffin, I am talking to you.

So that's the sum total of it really. Uninspired, not feeling the vibe, words strung together like sticky sweets on a candy necklace instead of flowing like Cheryl Cole's L'Oreal locks. It was all a bit last year for a minute there. But I've got my mojo back, and I've been inspired by the fact that my life as I know it in London is starting to change.

For 4 years my friends and I have shared the experience of a lifetime (ok, maybe travelling round the world together would have been cooler, but let me have my moment). We've partied, we've holidayed, we've triumphed over obstacles big and small, we've fought the system and not always landed on our feet. We've supported each other and raged at each other; we've had moments so epic they're like the end of a Jerry Bruckheimer movie, and moments where we would've happily thrown each other into the Thames. We've been each other's families over here. It's a big deal - this is a piece of my life history that causes my heart to miss a beat and my throat to swell a bit. That is to say, it's a part of my life that makes me truly happy. I treasure each and every moment we've shared, even the really tough ones. They're part of me, part of how I define myself, and certainly part of how I will shape any friendships in the future. And now it's coming to an end.

Miss M, TheArtyOne and OJ are all leaving London in December to go back home. They all have their reasons, but the underlying one is that we are all South African, and you can take the saffa out of the country but you can't take the country out of the saffa. We all miss home and feel the undeniable magnet pulling us back there. Several of us probably won't go home for good; most of us will. Sometime. But the fragmenting starts now, with our group losing 3 members who've been part of this crazy roller coaster ride.

I may not miss being deafened by Miss M, waiting for TheArtyOne or being blindsided by one of OJ's intensely complicated theories, but I will miss each of them as much as if someone had cut off three of my fingers. Too far? Maybe a little. Let's settle for toes. You don't need your toes - they're not even very pretty. But you'd damn well miss them if they were gone. Is it just me, or is this analogy getting more offensive by the letter? I think I'll stop here before I ruin the moment.

So, now that I'm back - and I do promise that it's for good - I'll tell you a bit more about how life is changing over here. As soon as I get back from my month long holiday in Cape Town - we leave next Tuesday. And after that, if I still feel like I have something inteliigent to say, maybe I'll write some more. Maybe I won't. But I will take this opportunity to say this to three of my very best friends:

L, S & J - we all love you. We will all miss you. Our group will have a gaping big hole in it that no-one will be able to fill (yes Miss M, finally that goddam hole is unfillable!) I hope you will stay in touch and that nothing will change, but the reality is, it always does. So instead, I hope that we all roll with the changes and do what we have to do, wherever we are, until it's time to all be together again. And if I had a horse right now, I'd put all three of you on it and ride you off into the sunset, with the score from the end scene in Braveheart swelling around you. Since I don't, and you'd smelt me if I did anyway, we'll settle for one more massive piss up, London-style, on Saturday night. A toast then:

May the winds of fortune sail you,

May you sail a gentle sea,

May it always be the other guy,

who says, "this drink's on me."