Thank you and good night.

How did I feel on July 8th 2009, the night before I left the UK to go to NZ for a year? Was I nervous, or excited? What did I expect, or hope for? I don't know. As far as I'm aware I have no record of my feelings then. Perhaps I didn't think or feel any of these things. (Was I Vulcan back then?)

But I do know how I felt on June 29th 2010, the night before I left NZ to return to the UK. I was kinda sad. And then surprised about being sad. Now, maybe it was becuase I'd just watched Grey's Anatomy, and was speaking to myself about my experiences in Meredith's chirpily-irritating, self-righteous, all-knowing, metaphor-laden, perfectly-scripted voice, but maybe it was because actually, I did end up having a good time in ol' NZ.

Things were tricksy at times, of course, but in the end I made a life for myself, which I now have to leave behind, pretty much for good (unlike leaving Edinburgh/London). I am returning to places with which I am familiar, but I will be out of the loop. These places, those friends, will have changed, as will I. So be patient when I say 'sweet as, bro' or bemoan the lack of L&P or harp on about places you've never heard of. All my suggestions for where we should go for a drink will be very far away. But, I guess, you never know what's going to happen next, so let's take all of that in our stride.

I will be - I am, right now - sad to leave Grey Lynn and the most awesomest flat, 13 Wilton Street. Sad to leave my Greenpeace chums, and my former bandmates, and my crazy semester two pals. I am sad to not have learnt to surf in Raglan, learnt to ski in Wanaka, to not have taken a helicopter ride over Franz Josef or Fox Glacier, to not have been sandboarding on Ninety Mile Beach. I am sad to leave Burger Fuel, bad advertising, torrential rain storms on my rooftop, the Shadows pub quiz, cold hours spent hanging out at Peary Road with the guinea pigs and Hamiltron, city of the future.

But it's always good to leave wanting more.

So, see you soon - or farewell, until next time,
A x