...and I'm off. I don't feel as sad as I'd anticipated either, but that's most probably due to comments about 'having me sacked' and 'not allowing me back to get my suitcase' and the like.
It's a pity really. It's brought a bit of a downer to my last couple of days here. I've had mostly good experiences, I've liked this village, the pub and on most days, my job. The people I've met have been good and friendly and I'm going away with memories to relive and stories to tell.
I'll miss the cockiness of the boys in the kitchen, the singing, the jokes, the 'abuse', the whipping with tea towels and baking nice things. I'll miss the times in the morning, before the pub opened and I'm the only one around and I had the chance to read the newspaper with a bowl of Special K and a cup of tea, in peace and quiet. I'll miss the nice folk, the walk to and from the bus stop at Mill End, Henley-on-Thames and Marlow, shopping trips in High Wycombe, the train trip to Paddington station.
It's been eight months. In that time I've been to South Africa, numerous trips to London, a festival on the Isle of Wight, read loads of books, there's been a beer festival, scenes from a movie filmed, I've seen movie stars and rock stars and I've worked hard.
I think I did alright too.
So now, my floor is strewn with bags, suitcases, books and plastic packets containing overspill from the bags and the suitcases.
Right...I'm off. Goodbye to Hambleden.