I will be back

Today is packing day, and as usual, I am packing far too many things and will definitely exceed the stipulated maximum of 30 kg on intercontinental flights.

I normally pack way in advance. In 2001, before coming to London for the BSc, I had packed 3 whole weeks in advance. In 2002, before going for the 4 month backpacking trip around Europe, I had finished packing two weeks before.

But just like the packing to leave Elm Road last year, packing to leave Bedford Place has been very difficult. As City Walker would probably agree, this round of packing does not simply involve the cramming of books into boxes or the stuffing of clothes in bags. This time, there is also the packing of memories.

Very close friends (and people who have lived with me) would know that I am a hoarder, to a degree perhaps of compulsiveness. I keep all sorts, and today, I have found the following in various boxes: Manchester travel card, chicken wish-bone half, postcards, box of matches from Dubai Meridien Hotel, Tiger Beer bottle cap, used ear plugs, packets of sugar, piece of paper with road directions scribbled by Welsh barman, etc.

They may all sound like trash, or easily replaceable. However, they will certainly be going back to Singapore with me. In each of these items is embedded a memory. The chicken wishbone part, for example, was broken during a wonderful meal at Marion’s home (I sadly cannot remember the wish). The sugar packet is from Café Nero at Old Compton Street, where I have memories of having nice chats and people-watching.

I do look forward to going back to Singapore, in catching up with some of my best pals, including Glynn, Enzong, Jingliu, Christine, Kaiyang, Wilson and Zhongwen. But I also can’t bear to leave London. I have made very good friends here too – people who endure my mischief and various idiosyncracies, people who challenge me to grow, and people with whom I have shared good times and bad. I will certainly miss these friends, and will be most happy to greet them with a leap and a hug at Changi Airport if (no, WHEN!) they visit me in Singapore.

There is a song sang by Kit Chan, which is frequently used for National Day and other patriotic thingies. Some of the lyrics go:

Whenever I am feeling low,
I look around me and I know.
There’s a place that will stay within me,
Whereever I may choose to go …

…

This is home, truly,
Where I know I must be
Where my dreams wait for me
Where that river always flows
This is home, surely,
As my senses tell me
This is where I won’t be alone
For this is where I know it’s home.

Certainly, Singapore is home, as it is where I was born and where my family is. Also and just as certainly, London over the years, has also become a home to me. I will miss London and its, using Wilson’s words, ‘(v)ibrance, tolerance, magnanimity, idealism, passion, energy, dedication, triumph, despair, stoicism, inner strength, determination and will, remembrance, grief ... and then, serenity on the Thames’.

London, I will be back. :p