Wake or break?

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It has been one heck of a week. In addition to the school holidays - a privelege of which i was spared of last year because i had been working, there has been the packing and closing shop. I don't know how long we're going to be away for, but it breaks my heart leaving all this behind. The kitchen sink, stove and spices the other day were inconsoable as they said, goodbye to me and told me how much they would miss me. My friend have been dropping over - you'd think it was a wake, and not a break!

It is impossible. As i leave, silly things which i never took notice of become touchstones of poignancy. The British flag, that flies outside the window. The lane that leads to our house. The Spar on the corner. St George's market. I went there yesterday specially to say goodbye to the traders whom i saw every week. See you in a while, i'll be off for Singapore. I got coffee off John and some honey from Greyabbey. I bought a whole box of buns from the fairy cake lady whom i never got the name off. It was for Eddie, whom i visited yesterday at Portmore Lough - he had laid a moth trap in our honour and we saw the most amazing creatures. Poplar Hawk Moth. Brimstone. Golden Y. Garden Tiger. Oh they were lovely. Large Green Emerald. Grass Emerald. Such names too. That roll around in your mouth, like jewels or marbles. Cold and large and decadent. Hard and inedible, but sensual of posession.

Then it was off to Comber. I had some presents made up for Jacq, Aurelia and Ma. I won't say what they are, but they are stunning. It was by a local artist and i discovered her while i was out electioneering. Then it was off to Alan's for another shot at the Jambon that he stocked. They are the sacrifice of acorn fed free range pigs and taste of the autumn forests. It's for Pa. There's nothing else really that i can get him. Oisin has gotten him something that's uniquely Northern Irish from Holywood mudflats. It's the sentiment that counts.

When i woke today, i cleaned the house and then the fridge. We had three punnets of strawberries from pickings at Millview Farm. So i made sorbet. Oisin, Ghin and i sat and decombed strawberries, chatting all the time. After that we whizzed them and then we froze it. Which reminds me, i should check the fridge to stir it round. How do you leave a place that has become home? Last night Sandra and i talked about racism here. It was interesting and painful. She was attacked in the Upper Ormeau a few years ago and unsurprisingly has never fully recovered. Will we ver change? I was thinking that that's one of thing things about Singapore. I never wonder if people are being rude because i'm Chinese. Other minorities worry about that. I don't. Although the last time i was there people kept on asking me if i was Singaporean. I didn't even have to open my mouth. are you Singaporean they'd ask.

I'm not i suppose. How could i possibly be? But my family's still there. And i had a life there...the complications. Judith's coming over now. The Marie this evening. Followed by a trip to Anita's to drop the fish off. The lean pickings of a rich life. I'm off now to prepare lunch.

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