All Things Must Pass

I left Barnard Castle straight after dinner, slightly sad but mostly relieved. The morning dragged: I rearranged desks, posed with students for photos and waved departing coaches away. The last of the Spanish were the first to leave, seen off by drunk and emotional staff at half three in the morning; the Romans and Sardinians followed eight hours later. Only the Sicilians remained in the dining room, calling out 'See you Michael' as I said my brief goodbyes to the dozen or so people who have almost entirely comprised my world for the past month. It ended as these things always do. Eventually you get used to it.