A Year Ago Tonight

I don’t think I slept too well a year ago tonight. Every possession I had to my name was in a box, somewhere between Leeds and its twin town, Lille, except for a suitcase containing the clothes and other bits and bobs I needed during the void between my vacating my flat in Stanningley and my walking up the steps to board the BMI Baby at Leeds Bradford Airport with, for the first time ever, just one ticket in my pocket. As I’ve said on many occasions, I know that I’m not the only person ever to have done this kind of thing but I’m the only person to have lived through my own particular version of it and everyone’s emotions and thought processes are entirely unique.

I was alone. I was extremely uncertain as to what lay in front of me and, in many ways, I still am. Europe long-since kissed goodbye to any ideas of “jobs for life” and we are all only as secure as the combination of our notice periods and our bank balances affords. Of course, to a student, stepping out like that is far more a thrill than a risk – you can’t lose what you haven’t yet constructed and it’s great that young people have the urge to dodge about a bit. To a family or a couple, whatever challenge, risk or excitement awaits them is spread evenly amongst them and, even in circumstances where one of them is particularly central to the decision they’ve taken to flit, they still represent a support network for one another. To someone nicely well-off, there’s always plenty to fall back upon if it all goes pineapple-shaped and, to those who don’t care about what lies in front of them, I can only offer a certain admiration. I’ve done stuff in the past which probably made me seem like I was in that latter group but, in reality, I have to admit that I’m much more prudent than that. Even when I dropped everything and buggered off to Tenerife a few years ago, my instinct led me to seek a position with a newspaper as opposed to a bar once I got there. We are who and what we are.

No, I’m no student (not in that sense, anyway) and I’m as totally alone now as I was that day at the airport. I don’t have much of a financial safety-net and I’m no longer the Bohemian (if I ever was). As I stared at the ceiling on February 21 2006, I really had no idea whether what I was about to “do to my life” was good, bad or indifferent. It was just an empty space, impossible to imagine and now, here we are, precisely one year on, to the hour.

Do I now think that it was a good or wise decision? Do I have regrets? Will I ever be back there and, if so, do I imagine that my return will be a matter of choice or one of necessity or compulsion? What is my social situation? Are there things I can’t bear and/or are there things I couldn’t bear to be without were I to leave and go back to Britain? If I were to leave, would Britain even be among the destinations I would contemplate? Is there anyone to whom I feel I owe great gratitude for anything over this last year or, perhaps, is there anyone I feel I should hold responsible for any negatives? Are the political or social landscapes more agreeable here than those in Britain or elsewhere?

I don’t want to tempt fate so I’m going to wait until tomorrow, my real anniversary, to consider my comments as to these points and others. What I will say now is that I’m really quite proud to have done what I did by making such a move in my own personal circumstances and I’m also very grateful to a great deal of people for the support and encouragement I’ve enjoyed as part of the process. Whether that support and encouragement came from “here” or “there”, anyone who knows me will know how genuinely I appreciate the back-up. You know who you are!

I now say goodnight, glass raised high to the notion of “whatever happens next”!

I haven’t seen the script yet!