Packing with Patty Duke
I met up with Ron on Thursday night. There was a lot of drinking involved, but fortunately I did not quite make the ass of myself that I did last time we hit London's mean streets together. Both of us are relocating to different countries. Ron and his wife are off to Wales, where he hopes to make his dream of becoming a published Children's author a reality, while I'm moving to Germany where I hope to make my dream of drinking cheap beer a reality.

I have a lot of respect for Ron. Giving your life over to your dreams to become a writer takes a lot of courage. I can say that because as you may or may not know I wasted two years of my life living in Galway, Ireland in a pathetic attempt to become a great novelist. I failed miserably, but then I know that Ron is a better writer than I'll ever be, and besides, I think he has a stronger work ethic. Instead of writing my novel(s) I spent hours in my room or in the library of University College Galway filling endless pages with stream-of-consciousness ramblings about my good-for-nothing flat-mates, how badly my novel(s) were going, how much I hated poverty and increasingly sordid fantasies involving an egg-wisk, a stick of celery and whichever unatainable woman was my current lust object.

So I'm moving again, yet another country to add to my list. This time it's Germany. But it's not like I'm stepping off a cliff into the unknown. I stride the ancient cobbled streets of Ueberlingen without fear. I'm almost a native. If you include last weekend's flying visit, I've been four times now.

Will I lose the tourist's rosey picture of the region? Undoubtedly. It took less than a month to get over Galway's chocolate-boxey charm. I suspect the turning point in Ueberlingen may come sooner. Perhaps the first time a local garbologist takes me to task for seperating my garbage with insufficient elan.

I can hardly wait.

There's a lot to do. I have to cancel the Electricity, the Gas, the Cable/Broadband/Phone, etc. Then there's the Council tax, arranging storage for some things, shippping others and giving away/throwing out the rest. I've some serious packing and cleaning to do, not to mention haggling over my deposit ("Well sure it's a pig sty, but who's fault is that?").

I'm going to need help with all of this. What I really need is two of me: An identical twin, or better yet, an identical cousin, like Patty Duke had. We'd laugh alike, we'd walk alike; at times we'd even talk alike.

My doppleganger would be like Cathy, quiet and uncomplaining. He'd take care of all the boring, messy and annoying things. He's probably get a kick out of spending two hours on hold with NTL Customer Services. And who could blame him!

I, on the other hand, would deal with the wild and exciting aspects of moving. Like being able to make obnoxious passes at, and being turned down cold by, women I'd normally never dream of talking to. There would be no awkward silence to endure the next day, because there would be no next day. I'd never have to see them again.

Oh well, two weeks and counting...

A Biggish Day
Today I handed in my notice. I felt a real sense of dread welling up as the moment approached; quitting after only six months felt like betrayl, in point of fact it was a kind of betrayal. The deed itself proved somewhat anti-climactic, however. It was over in a minute or two.

"Oh well. Just put it formally in an email, CC the MD and your manager."

They didn't even ask why.

Of course normally people resign directly to their manager, but I couldn't do that, given that my manager is spending March on a sex tour of the brothels of South-East Asia. I am, sadly, not kidding. He is very open about that kind of thing.

"So, now what?" I hear you cry. Well, since you ask so nicely... I'm putting my furniture into storage, packing my bags and moving to Germany.

My good friend Justin, who has patiently endured near endless torrent of complaints about my current job, went out of his way to arrange an interview with the his own IT department. They came through with an offer and today I agreed to sign on the dotted line.

I'm a bit of a globe trotter, having lived in quite a few countries, but this will be the first time I've spent more than a few weeks in a country where English was not the first language. How will I cope? Which will prove the bigger hurdle, the language or the three seperate garbage bins? Only time will tell, I suppose.

So don't forget to tune in here for the All-New Adventures of Kieran in the Land of the Jagermeister (which does not contain any deer blood, despite what you may have heard).

News to come
Just quickly, I may have some possiblly biggish news within the next day or so. Big lifestyle change leading to really interesting things to blog about, leading to what I hope will be an increased desire to blog.

For a long time I've not blogged because I couldn't really say what I was thinking about a big part of my life. With any luck I'll be able to tell it like it is. It all depends on a phone call later this evening. I hope I have something interesting to report.