Turn out the lights...

Oddly, I'm spending my Friday off behind my old desk in Borehamwood. 9 months after I left, it would be nice to say I've come back to my old team to find nothing has changed. And nothing's changed- apart from the removal men.

Yep, the much-trailed move to the other side of the county is finally going ahead today, and the team decided it would be more efficient to combine all the staff leaving lunches and invite me along. It's definitely the end of an era, and after 9 months of lone working it's actually quite nice to hang out with the old team and take in the scene of destruction. It's quite good for closure, and it's also nice that no-one can actually do any work as all the computers and files have all gone already. I also need to share stories of my lousy shift with people who will understand, and it's gppd to hear them tell me I was right- even if it was through a very selective sharing of facts.

Old Manager's on good form as well, with his usual blend of extreme rudeness and callousness and- blink and you'll miss it- genuine warmth. We're leaning on what remains of the duty desk I set up 2 years ago (the chairs have all been packed) when I drop the subtlest of hints about my job
"It's fun, for now anyway."
"Would you ever consider coming back then?"
"If I earned the same salary, I might consider it."
"How much do you earn now then?"
I tell him, and there's one of those meaningful pauses which seems to suggest "you'd be lucky in this town". But you never know.

At 4pm I divert all the phones, like I did every Friday and we walk out, pausing only to tear down the team's sign and throw it in the bin before turning out the lights. Somehow I just knew it would be me who did that.

The end of an era's easier if you're no longer a part of it.