Leaving, on a jet plane... (part 1)

Options, choices, dilemmas. The back is okay, it's not great and it hurts like hell if i drive, sit without a cushion or sleep in the wrong position. Come to think of it it just hurts all the bloody time with varying degrees of pain that I have learnt will intensify if I do any of the above. My full body cast is off though, hacked and sawn away from my slightly dishevelled self. It's minging too, they asked me if i wanted to keep it and stupidly I said yeah, having grown quite attached over the last 3 and a half months. Now though, on reflection, now that i have this plaster cast torso shaped monstrosity sitting next to me smelling up my teenage nephews' bedroom I'm thinking i made a bad call. I've been in this thing all that time and been unable to shower, bathe or even really wash any of the body that it covered so not only is it a big pointless lump of plaster cast, it's also a stinkingly disgusting one too! Anything that can make a teenage boys bedroom smell worse is truly impressive in the olfactory sense!

I now have a removable strap on cast that I'm to wear for the next three months and I've now had a bath so things are looking up and smelling better. I'm doing a few shifts on the bar at my sisters pub, nothing too strenuous but it's nice to be earning a bit of money. I've been here a few months now in recuperation, thinking and deciding on what path to take next. I'm in the pool team but it hurts to play, darts is easier and the lads are gonna be disappointed now that the body cast's off as they've been throwing darts into it whenever i go to retrieve my throws! Hilarious the first 45 times...

I can't see me doing a driving job, too painful. Can't see me staying behind this bar too long as even though I know I'm welcome here, there's a limit to when I will have overstayed it. My sister, I think, would be fine with me around but my brother in law is whole different story. He likes to rule his roost, likes to have a shout and a moan, likes to create a bit of chaos where there could just as easily be calm and I'm not one for falling into line so it would only be a matter of time if I stayed that things would come to a head.  Besides, I'm nearly 30 and coming out of a marriage and a near fatal car crash so I'm not the best company either.

So it's all about options. What can I do? Well i can do plenty of things if i go back over trodden ground. Restaurant work: chef, front of house, manager... dishwasher. Pub work: barman, cook, train to manage. Painter/decorator, bad mechanic, window cleaner, job in a cafe', care worker, carpet loom tuner (a bit random but i did 2 years worth of apprenticeship before the factory i was at closed down), job in retail maybe. Options, but all well trodden and none appealing. I could try and use my degree in some way. Social work, helping the homeless, prison warden, police force... yeah like they'd even look at me in my current state and Id need 12 months of training that I really am not in the mood for. I need to make a choice though.

Christmas comes, bringing with it family and gatherings and the usual festive bollocks. It's the end of 2001 and I can't face it. I'm in a bad place all through Christmas. I put a brave face on, even cook the dinner for everyone but it hurts. Physically with the back, and mentally with the past, the present and the apparent lack of future. I cook the Christmas dinner but I can't eat it, can't face it, or anyone or anything. I lock myself away feigning sickness and think some more, circles of thought coming back to the same miserable reality time and again. There's laughter and noise from the pub downstairs, there's laughter and happiness right outside the door but none here, none this side of my eyes. Fucks sake Roy, cheer the hell up and sort your shit out.

It's my first festive season away from the girls, that's the bottom line. That's the reason for my lack of harmony and as I contemplate what to do I realise that my old life just ain't coming back. There's no happy ever after in the story and the credits have already rolled. I promised my ex that I wouldn't take the girls away from their mother and I can't be near their mother without putting my brain into reverse. The only way I can see me coping with this admission to myself is distance and time.

As it turns out, 5,500 miles of distance is probably overkill but when opportunity and circumstance collide you gotta go with the flow! New year comes and goes and I'm at least starting to move forward, I think. There's an opportunity to teach English in Korea in the paper, the world cup is going to be in Korea this year, 2+2= why the hell not? I look at the requirements: A degree in anything, check. Available to travel to the other side of the world on a 12 month contract, check. A pulse, mmm just about, check!

I ring up to apply and am interviewed by the teacher who is leaving the post I'm applying for. He's happy that I'm eager and offers some helpful advice on teaching methods. The 2 things that they are concerned with are the colour of my skin (am I white... I know, pretty shocking) and am I fit to travel. It's the weirdest job interview I've ever had but I got the job on the basis that I could talk English, had a degree and was white. They need to do a bit of paperwork and sort out my visa (so much simpler in 2002 than it is now) and I'm set to fly out at the beginning of March. The pay is okay, the apartment is laid on and I will be working 5 or 6 hours a day 5 days a week... I'm happy and I'm sad, I'm exited and I'm scared, I'm ready and yet I'm most definitely not!