This week I'll be mostly locked in the lavatory

"Oh dear, what can the matter be"
- Trad.

(This isn't about leaving.  Who am I kidding, it totally is.)

I'm in the downstairs toilet, for what will be the last time.  Fortunately (for me), and unfortunately (for you), I have my phone on me.  It's a smart(ish) phone, so not only can I make a phone call, but I can also take a photo, and write some stuff...

This week I'll be mostly leaving the lilies to look after themselves

Thwop

(This is not about leaving.)

I'm not a gardener.  By any stretch of the imagination.

But here's the issue.  I spend the week sitting at a desk looking at words and numbers on a screen, and thinking about uninsured loss recovery, or mid-term adjustments, or catering for both pipe-delimited and comma-separated values, or secure transmission, or stream file integrity checking, or whatever.  So when I get home on the weekend, I walk through the front garden, I just happen to notice some nature that needs attending to, and a primeval instinct kicks in...

This week I'll be mostly on the bus

"Form a line to the front
Form a line to the back"
- Gouldman

(This is not about leaving.)

There's a class of people in Chandler's Ford.  Middle class.  They know how to queue for a bus.  They're British.  They stand quietly and wait patiently.  They're elderly.

This week I'll be mostly at the airport

"This is the last call for the passenger taking
a photo while leaning over the balcony of Costa Coffee,
your flight is now boarding"

So this is it.  The last time I'll be typing a previously-committed-to-memory 6 character code into a 4ft high kiosk.  The last time I'll be asked if I have any liquids or sharp objects on my person.  The last time I'll be trying to pick the queue without the doddery old people, or the numpty teenagers.  The last time I'll be emptying my pockets into a plastic tray.  The last time I'll be randomly frisked on account of being too lazy to shave in the last 4 days.  The last time it will turn out that I have traces of explosive materials on my laptop.  The last time I'll queue up at the cashpoint that dispenses English notes.  The last time I'll be purchasing an overpriced americano.  The last time I'll be sitting on an uncomfortable stool at an undersized dirty table cluttered with other people's coffee cups that hasn't been wiped down since yesterday evening.  The last time I'll be reading Mark Hughes, Gary Anderson or Marcus Pye while being forced to listen to the inane conversation at the table beside me.  The last time I'll be getting out my laptop and writing half a blog while keeping one eye on the departures board.  The last time I'll wait until the queue has gone at the gate before strolling nonchalantly up with my boarding pass and photo id.  The last time I'll find that even though I'm at 16A and I boarded at the rear steps, there's a family of ignorant Liverpudlians who are in row 21 but who boarded at the front and are now walking all the way up to the back and are behaving like it's everyone else who is in their way.  The last time I'll seem to be the only passenger giving the cabin crew my full attention during the safety briefing even though I've heard it a million times before.  The last time I'll get a quick half hour kip at 17,000 ft.  The last time I'll be last off, but first out due to a well timed bit of speed walking, and not having to wait for hold baggage.