It was Spain to Dublin and then Dublin the Hull, for three weeks of rushing, every moment full. A week spent on revision, and one on finial exams. Everything I could do to last minute cram…And at work it was my last weeks of shifts, and saying goodbye to the staff I’d miss. On the very last night me, Rose, and Sean, dressed up as pirates and got our boogie on.

Then it’s packing up my stuff, clearing out my home, trying to find closure on this English life I’ve known. A farewell barbeque and being thrown into a tub, walking home one-shoed, but feeling the love. And finally, all the rushed goodbyes. But I didn’t do it with everyone because I was just out of time. I had all these plans for things to finish, but at the end of three weeks there still on my list. So Hull you’ll have to settle for a: “so-long for now,” but I promise, someday, I’ll make it up to you somehow.

Three weeks of summation in a sentence or less is: there is never enough time, you just gotta do your best.

Sorry to get all Doctor Suessy on you but I was eating eggs and ham and just kind of went with it. It was strange to pack everything up and say goodbye because despite the fact that I’ll be back in Hull later this summer, it’ll only be as a brief visitor, not a resident. This just came so soon…

It’s peculiar too because I think it takes about a year or so to really start to feel comfortable with a place. Now that I was getting more and more comfortable and had a more solid social life and bonds I’m leaving. I’m sure there is an applicable old adage to plug in here but I don’t know what it is. Murphy’s law maybe?