By Mark Davison

New Endings

For me, Friday was the point of no return. Until then I was still working, still carrying on, living my life, moving along the conveyor. Though that sounds negative, I don’t mean in a derogatory way. Work brought safety, security, and reliability. I knew what I had to do each day; in a general sense at least. Now I am in free fall.

This was the first job I had ever quit. My previous jobs have been short term, or seasonal, so I never quit my time just came to an end, along with everyone else’s. This is different though. 

My routine had become such a part of my life that it feels strange to know I won’t be going back to work on Monday morning. While I am off, exploring, and finishing preparations for SCA (passion project I am looking at you) my old colleagues will be carrying on. They will be working through the projects that weren’t finished before I left, discussing which fantasy football league they should use for the office league this season, and bemoaning the fact that the lifts need to say four separate sentences before the doors will close.  I will not.

I never thought I liked routines, and I still don’t think that I do, at least in the strictest sense of the word.  I never liked to eat the same things for breakfast too often, or get in the same carriage on the tube.  I like to leave home at different times in the morning, you see different sorts of people getting the tube that way. But in the more general sense, routine gives you a safety blanket, a parachute.

Now I am falling, without a parachute, into the deep waters that are SCA. I’m confident, with the help of the tutors, mentors, and my fellow students (shout out to all you guys and girls reading this, are we the only ones who do?) I will learn to swim. Well… mostly confident.