By Andrew Day:-

With our planned departure drawing ever nearer we now have the luxury of saying we depart this time next week.

Christmas seems but a yonder memory. It seemed to come and go in a blur of wanton desire. Would I get the things I really want or just a pair of plain socks with a cartoon character on the side? As the thought of work fades from my memory maybe I have everything I want and going away is it. There were no socks in site and everybody bought us great things to take away (thank you everybody!).

The rituals were the same as always - my Dad washing up anything you put down, my Mum panicking because the oven isn't big enough and saying "Michael where is the spoon I was using". "Sorry Rita, its washed" Dad would reply.

The smell of brussels drift into the sitting room as Nick and I watch some film that has been on hundreds of times and we can almost recite it word for word.

The traditional New Year's Eve party was postponed due to Marie catching the flu finally taking place last weekend. At least we were able to combine it with a leaving party so maybe it was all for the best.

Moving day soon came and passed in a flurry of bleach, oven cleaner and loads of stress. After days of scrubbing and lugging boxes from one room to the other had the result we weren't surprised to see. The obligatory search for anti histamines as my hands became balloons of fire.

We now have no where to call home and the nerves are really kicking in and I can't wait.