Certain

It's settled.

Over the last month, I contemplated the fluster-flurries of what-ifs-and-hows within a snow globe in my hand. Today I put it down and looked up at the sky for a change... and under and out of all that sheer vast impossible Blue... I decided.

Decisions are frightening. They require certainty of self in the midst of a turbulence of possibilities. I am definitely not certain of myself. But then again, I'm certainly not frightened.

In fact there are a few other things I am also certain of. My suitcase is on the bed and it's empty now, but I know that by Thursday night it will be full and spilling over with the spoils of two years. Two very good years. Another thing I am sure of is that the name of this blog will have to change, for the riverman~~~ will probably never be "under cliff" ever again.


The past four years of my life have been a series of comings-and-goings to everywhere-and-nowhere only to come-back to go-away again. I have no idea if this, my next move, will be my last, but let me tell you what I certainly know:


I know that this time I don't want to make a big deal out of leaving. I positively don't need an airport farewell, and I have categorically ruled out spending any more time sitting around and reminiscing over the past two years. I know that I simply have to look through the past entries on this blog to remember what I have had, and recognise what I know I still have. The best and most true of treasures can never fit into a suitcase, but I will be able to take them with me just the same. Of this I am very certain.


And one final thing I am certain about:

Roads are for journeys and not for destinations... and after all this sit-down-contemplation... it's time I stretched my legs and did a little walking!

So let's just say farewell for the present Reader, for You will hear from me again.


And of that, I know You are certain!

~~~

Here goes...

This post marks the end of a little era.

It has been a manic six months... and a lot of it has been agonizing work and terrible hours. Yes, I have ranted and raved about the underpaid and tepid state of my "winter of discontent" in SJ Burnout, but now as I prepare to vacate my office I remember these moments and smile...

Lunches at Stanleys, cigarettes by the riverside in the afternoon and evening, beers at O'Neils before heading back to my desk, conversations at the Banker, fish and chips on Friday, coffee and hot chocolate downstairs by the lift lobby, walks across Southwark Bridge, strawberries on the patch of green under the trees along Upper Thames Street, Pret a Manger sandwiches, soup and bread in the evenings, San Miguel beer bottles beside the break-out area, pirates summer partying on a boat, gin & tonics at The Golden Fleece, gargantuan guacamole wraps, lunch invite e-mails, Sunny rooftops, very violent table tennis, very very violent table football, Binny on the dance floor, Gracey on the Karaoke mics, Terence on the carpet, Aileen with Vietnamese rice rolls, Chongster and his "hey Mate...M-M-M-MMate!!", Matt with a football on the grass, Arun and his "thyroid problem"...

... and I am grateful for them. But for these foolish things - SJ Burnout may have washed me out as well... Thank you, you wonderful people for making these days bearable, and I will miss you!

You definitely changed my world!

Arrru-u-u-u-u-nn!!!

Let me sing you the RGS song...

Gotta end the PAIN!

Taxi rides are for hugs!

Strike a pose! (Not very) VOGUE!!

CHONGSTER M..m..m..mMate...

Charlies Angels with Charlie's favourite angel in the middle...

Actually I had no idea who those two pouters were...

... but if you can't hold your Sake - join them lah!

One more for Charlie!

A very tired angel...

Three little maids from school ...

... and then, there were two...

... and two more...

And so all good things come to an end!

Ta Ta!
~~~

We will miss you Matt!

It's really quiet today in the office. I have suddenly realised what a noisy machine my computer is. It is probably fitting that after the sweatshop slavery and the giddy gallery of interviews over the past month, that I should learn to appreciate "Lie quiet Divus"... but I can't help it! I really do miss Matt!

My room mate Matt has left for the BVI, and before he bid his final tearful adieu at the barbeque I held last weekend, he obligingly bequeathed me his legacy of precedant documents in a big grey file which I have propped up like a tombstone on my shelf... hopefully not the sole testament to our six months together.

No, when I remember Matt I want to remember us hanging outside O'Neils and inside The Golden Fleece for a pint (or five) before heading into work after lunch... barbequeing spicy chicken wings on a summer's day under a blue sky... drinking a gallon of Pimms... head-banging to U2... dancing madly to Queen in an 80s club near St Paul's...

So Matty-boi, this is my little farewell to you simply for auld lang syne: a little something for you to remember us by as well. Yes, I will most probably find that block of documents you gave me very useful, but see mate, these pictures will always make me smile!

Take care Matty dear! And do keep in touch! Keep waltzing in the BVI... and don't drink too much "toddy"!

Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong,
Under the shade of a coolibah tree, And he sang as he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled "Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?" Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me And he sang as he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled, "Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?" Along came a jumbuck to drink at the billabong, Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him with glee, And he sang as he stowed that jumbuck in his tucker bag, "You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me". Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me And he sang as he stowed that jumbuck in his tucker bag, "You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?". Up rode the squatter, mounted on his thoroughbred, Down came the troopers, one, two, three, "Whose is that jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag?""You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me". Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me Up jumped the swagman, leapt into the billabong, "You'll never catch me alive," said he, And his ghost may be heard as you pass by the billabong, "Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me". Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me And his ghost may be heard as you pass by the billabong, "Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?"

~~~