2004-05-06

My air of smugly immanent departure is making my co-workers behave strangely. Like this one, for example, who really doesn�t need any extra ammo in her arsenal of strange behaviour (oh god � she hosted a meeting a few weeks ago, and her imagined ailment du jour was some sort of back injury. She spent the entire meeting gingerly rearranging herself in her seat, propping her legs on the chair next to her and groaning audibly. Two days after this maudlin display of chiropractic pathos, she was completely fine. It�s a miracle!). She came to my office to make one of her usual asinine requests (�Robin, can you show me how to send an e-mail again? I forget!�), and before she left she expressed an interest in going for coffee so we could �catch up� before I move.

Huh? Catch up on what? Three years of a complete absence of friendship? It�s like I�m dying � all of a sudden everyone wants to pretend they like me. I�d prefer the reverse, actually: I�ve got four weeks left in this dump, so why stand on ceremony? You can tell me with impunity to go stick my head in a dead donkey. Have at �er, and I�ll do the same. And while you�re at it, just try and get me do some work. Go ahead, try!

Instead of working, I�m busy looking up local bus routes for my new neighbourhood. Because I am the proud new owner of a UK mailing address! I�d share it with you, except that my new housemates seem like nice people and are expecting a �clean, tidy, quiet� Canadian on their doorstep come June (got THEM fooled, ha ha) and not a passel of rowdy freaks like yourselves. I will share that my new home is located in Tameside, on the east side of Greater Manchester. The rent is criminally cheap, which the house owner explained by revealing apologetically that the neighbourhood is �a bit out of the way.� This worried me at first, until I realized that the English have a very different sense of distance than we do in Canada � in Canada, if you live �a bit out of the way,� it means that your groceries have to be flown in by helicopter and your nearest neighbours are a pack of timber wolves. In British-speak, �a bit out of the way� translates to a twenty-minute train ride to downtown. Hardly a massive inconvenience, especially when you�re used to covering the same distance by dogsled. (OK, not really. But I have to perpetuate the stereotypes of Canada, because I�m about to become an international ambassador, eh?)