It won't be for long though of course. In a curious way, the five of us who lived here this year were just the support act for Paul and Heather, who next week, will be filling that emptiness with their own excitement and hope, when they move in to the St Birinus Vicarage. It'll be weird coming back to see them: like getting a lift with the person you sold your car to, or seeing an old girlfriend walk happily down the aisle to marry the man of her dreams. I best not let my mind wander to there though eh...
The thing to do, says my pragmatic brain, is to be thankful for the times you had, let them go, and move on to the next thing boldly and without regret. Yup. OK. Well, we did have some fun times I suppose. And there were some moments of great significance for me in this house. In packing up today, I found a post-it note that had slipped down behind a chest of drawers.
"Think!" it said, bravely, "Turn off your light before you leave the room!"
Sammy had even gone to the trouble of drawing a little light-bulb, just so I'd remember what it was I was supposed to switch off. I grinned a little more enthusiastically today than I did on the day it appeared on my door.
It was a shame really, that things didn't exactly work out. I wouldn't like to speculate completely, but those evenings when she opened the kitchen door, bleary-eyed and frustrated at the conversation that had just woken her up, probably had something to do with it. Then of course, the infamous Fruitfly Epidemic was probably a bridge too far.
There were flies everywhere: little tiny ones that got into everything. I remember counting about fifty of them once, crawling randomly up my window. Minute black specks surging upward against the clear January sky. They were in the cups, in the bin, in the flowers and swarming through the kitchen like an Egyptian plague. In the end, they did all perish - probably when the snow-drift happened and life got very chilly for a few weeks.
It was a chilly time. I remember waking up at 2am and watching the snowflakes drift aimlessly in the lamplight. Taken with some foolish idea, I threw on clothes and walked down Empress Road, pretending to be a great explorer. Crisp footprints fell deep in the snow behind me. For a while I was Captain Oates, braving the elements, squaring up to destiny and leaving all I knew behind me... then I realised I was blinking freezing and I could be asleep in bed, so I went back inside to shake the snow off my jacket.
Late nights were quite common here though. And not just for me. One time, I was editing the 'School of Discipleship Training Notes' document for Paul through the night. It had got to that stage where everything within felt like it was aching with tiredness. The sky was steadily growing lighter, and as the streetlamps blinked out and the world was awakening, I creaked my way downstairs for a cup of tea, only to hear James and Reuben playing Call of Duty on the X-Box in James's room. Even the other day, when I got back from Wales, Reuben claimed that James had done three straight all-nighters.
I am not 20 any more, I thought. Then I realised that I also, was up doing something fairly inconsequential through the night. Perhaps in some ways, I am then. Perhaps.
In many ways though, when Sammy had escaped the fly-infested noisy mess, Danni was probably the most mature of all of us. I don't think I've ever seen anyone bake so fast or so well. Banana crumble, little cup-cakes, biscuits, sponge-cakes... she was quite something. Not that baking is a mark of maturity you understand... she just seemed able to do so much more with her time to make the most of every minute she had. Many a time, she'd whirl in, in a flurry of colours and textiles and food. Racing up the stairs, she'd spin into an equally colourful outfit, and breeze through the kitchen, clutching her car keys, on her way to the next thing. She was great.
Tonight, without James to entertain him, Reuben taught me how to flick a tea-towel properly. Then he lined up a few extraneous energy drink cans and whipped them off the counter wild-west-style.
Reuben has been the most interesting character I'd say. He said to me today that this year has, in some ways, been the best of his life, and in others, by far the worst. I smiled knowingly. In some ways you see, I could say the same. But throughout, Reuben has remained quirky and intelligent. We've had some intricate conversations - mostly with his intellectual mind taking the topic anywhere from birds migrating, to Gordon Brown's involvement in freemasonry. If anything, he's surely learning that there are certain times for certain conversations. Hence the legend of Cranky Matt was born. I do hope he takes his socially developing tact to his next home. Either that, or I should hope they have a little gaffa-tape there.
The closeness in age between Reuben and James led to all sorts of student-style high-jinks. When planning the fun-day, I was followed one evening, by the pair of them. I went to measure the field. For reasons I couldn't work out, they thought it might be best to hide in a bush while I paced out an arena on the grass. They spent a lot of time eating pizza and playing shoot-em-ups on the X-Box 360, and sleeping at odd times. In many ways though, they certainly helped me feel like being at university all over again. I ought to thank them for making me feel young; but Reuben will only take the mickey out of me.
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So, tonight as the sun set I thought about the Year at St Birinus. It seemed strange to see that September sunset - interlaced golden clouds, deep pink sky and trails of purple and blue and white streaking across the dying day. It was very similar to the first sunset I'd seen here, almost exactly a year ago. Someone (who knew me well) told me I would enjoy the sun setting from this window. On that night when I cried myself to sleep on the sofa, I might not have appreciated it. When I plugged in my headphones and wished I could escape the world, I would not have cared for it. And when I returned wet and bedraggled from standing on that bridge wondering whether it was all worth it... I wouldn't have even seen it.
But today, the last day here, with the afternoon slipping silently into glory, that person was exactly right. I did enjoy it. At the end of it all, I really did.
