It’s my last night at home (as opposed to my last night in England), and my friend S and I went out for dinner locally (yes, lovely meal, thanks. The Palmerston. Do you know it?).

The reason we went out for dinner is that it will be S’s birthday while I’m in Malaysia. In fact, it’s occurred to me that while I’m away I will be missing the following list of events:

- The birth of my best friend’s first child
- My other best friend’s birthday
- My dad’s birthday
- Three weddings
- Hopefully no funerals
- Pancake Day

On the plus side, I will be gaining:

- Chinese New Year

I know I’m only going away for two months; but something about this trip does feel like A Very Big Deal. It has only really hit me in the past few days that, <gulp>, it really is happening. I really am going. Up to this point, I have been enormously blasé (and wouldn’t that make a fine cabaret name?) - to the extent that I was even slightly worried that I seemed to feel no fear or real nervousness about what I’m about to embark on.

Clearly, I needn’t have worried.

It’s not debilitating or stopping me dead in my tracks. I’m not filled with dread or beginning to think that I’ve made a mistake. But I am feeling that, well, something big is about to happen; and finally comprehending what I’m about to embark upon.

And that’s slightly scary.

But I’ll do it anyway.