Change of a dress

A month seems to have gone by since the last posting. Something to do with Dad’s departure in April? It’s not unusual to have a post-Dad delay in writing but it’s not that. I just don’t feel much like chattering, and that’s why this time I haven’t broadcast this on social media as a way to get you to read it. If you are reading this it’s because you wanted to, not because I told you to – which is nice! If you’re thumbing back through several posts, well, no matter. I do that too.

We are moving, so in fact there has been lots to shout about here in Sing. We’re not moving abroad, or back to the UK, just down the road to a different place for a different adventure for WhoKnowsHowLong. The new move has dislodged us in various ways. Mr PC is enthusiastic, upbeat. Well, isn’t he always? SM was glum, then tense, and is now cautiously jolly. He’ll have to resettle all over again, he’s very aware of that, and it’s taken him four weeks to say that he does in fact quite like the new place (he should do: it’s got ponds with fish, and ceiling fans). Me? Veering from massive enthusiasm to sadness and anxiety, as always. So in fact we’re all being completely normal.

Much as I love to portray myself as a bonkers mercurial Gemini, though, I really do hate change. I can’t work out if this move means we are in a more wedged position over here, or very much uprooted, or just the same as before only a mile down the road.

The new apartment is a walk away from work, and that’s another thing that’s happened lately: office life once more, absolutely no hope of clicking on the computer dressed in my gym kit with a bag of crisps on the side. It’s going to be a great excuse to go clothes shopping this summer, at least one little trip, perhaps, but starting a new role, albeit part-time, again highlights the fixed position that we currently enjoy here in Singapore and removes us further still from London life. Yet every month we Skype the person sorting out our London flat, keen to get cracking on renovations some time next year.

I’ve foghorned all these new plans to the Singapore side, yet not said much at all to those in the UK, because those conversations lead to the inevitable big questions, and I’d rather flick through the Ikea catalogue again rather than face up to my social responsibilities.

I suppose I’ve reached the point where I’ve no idea where we are or what we’re up to.  When I shop for couches and cutlery it’s for here AND there. In Women’s Clothing it’s also for here, although I often wonder when it will be for there. On the surface it’s fun; underneath, there’s probably a bit of emotional grouting to be done.

See some of you in London this summer. I’ll be in the John Lewis kitchen section looking confused.