The Magpies are Flying Again

I always used to say I could live my life by the magpies. You know the well-known magpie-spotting rhyme that goes one for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy and so on. I can pretty much guarantee that if I’m having a crappy day I’ll see a single magpie, or if I see one solo magpie it usually signals something not great it about to happen.

In the last week or so, since I parted ways with my male friend, the magpies have been in pairs. I can’t explain it. There was a single magpie that lived in the tree opposite my flat, the one I have a direct view of from my bedroom window. Since I moved in at the end of June, I have only ever seen him on his own. Yesterday I saw him frolicking on our neighbours’ roof with another magpie.

Thus, I see this as a sign that I’ve done the right thing. But have I?

That is as much as it wrote of this blog yesterday before arriving at work. It was my intention to write about how I felt like I had abandoned my friend, who is likely to move back up north in the next few weeks. He is pretty fed up with life too, and his own romantic knocks have only confirmed his decision to leave London. Yesterday I felt bad that he would spend his last few weeks without someone who he’s spent a lot of time with since moving to London, someone who had been a good friend to him as much as he had to me. Especially as now I have friends here, I want to open my social circle to him. So I had planned to call him last night.

Due to our department being short-staffed at work, I worked until gone 7pm last night, and by the time I got home it was close to 8pm. After sitting in my room for a while, I decided that after all my travels this last week – Manchester to help my friends move to London, a two-day business trip to Edinburgh that involved taking minutes at a senior managers’ meeting that lasted six and a half hours, and a six-hour spontaneous round trip to Lincoln where I drove to visit my family at the weekend – on top of working til 8pm the remaining days I was in the office last week meant that all I really wanted was a really early night. I used the bathroom then told my housemate I was going to bed. At 8:30?! Was his reply. He asked if I’d eaten and I hadn’t, deciding to forego dinner for sleep. He then started asking me all sorts of questions about what I had been eating lately, which made me mad because all I wanted to do was sleep, and I told him I didn’t appreciate him interrogating me.

We argued about it for a few minutes then I went into my room. I chatted with one of my friends who allowed me to vent while calming down.

After a while I left my room to let the Bish in, because I wanted to feel contained in my room, and also because I have started shutting him in my room at night so as not to bother my housemate who was complaining about getting woken up at night by my cat. Bish still wakes me up of course, but I tell him it’s not time to go out and he accepts that and goes back to sleep.

As I ventured out into the flat, my housemate asked me if I was ok, and after a long debate about how he feels I’m not looking after my health and not doing anything to better myself, the culmination of that conversation was that I handed my month’s notice in to leave.

To be honest, I have never felt comfortable living there since I moved in at the end of June. My housemate is a life coach, and while I do believe he wants to help, I dread the spontaneous two-hour long conversations where I get overwhelmed by all the personal development he tries to pile on me. After the last relationship with my former life coach didn’t end exactly great, I have been wary of him, and to be honest I find I can’t cope with being in such a tiny flat with someone who is trying to fix all my problems.

So anyway, now I have one month to find a place for me and Bish. Obviously I’m not relishing that thought after the previous trouble I had finding somewhere which left me homeless for three weeks. Although I’ve been told off for using that term “homeless” by my housemate. Whatever.

All I wanted last night was an early night. I don’t usually skip dinner by the way, as I love food. But this last week has been quite unique and while travelling I’ve ended up eating more sandwiches for lunches and dinner than I would like, considering I’m trying to go gluten-free.

I do wonder if I had phoned my male friend last night whether all this would have been avoided; if I’d told my housemate I was going to make a phone call rather than going to bed. But probably that would have been the wrong thing to do too.

Right now the sun is shining but I have a very nervous feeling in my heart. I don’t know where I will be in a month’s time, I only hope it won’t be in another B&B.

As for the magpies? I guess they’ll soon tell me whether it’s gonna be a good or bad few weeks.


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