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The sense is part foreboding, part nonchalance - if both feelings can coexist - and sitting in the departure lounge at Aberdeen airport, waiting - seemingly interminably - for the announcement of my flight to Manchester does little to ease those feelings. Back in January when I decided the API 571 exam was going to be one of my key personal development deliverables for the year, April seemed a lifetime away. Now, on the eve of the exam, the harsh reality hits home squarely not helped by the bad weather which has led to the delay of the inbound flight. The mood around the waiting room is one of tired resignation. It is chock full, fuller than I have ever seen it, perhaps a result of all the flights bunched up. Added to that for me is hunger, having skipped breakfast and hopped down to Boots at work for a meal deal lunch; hardly the sort of fare my inner Nigerian subsists on on a normal day. ...

My father, very much like me, is not a great talker- the sum of our conversation over the course of the year is little more than fifteen minutes. In the main these - 3 minutes here, 2 there, and 5 there have mainly come about as intermissions, snuck in between typically lengthy conversations with my mother - if her constant probing and interrogating can count as conversations. When I wake up to find a couple of missed calls from him on my phone , a whatsapp message from my kid sister, and a BBM message from my brother - all relating to the fact that my father has been trying to get hold of me- it sets the alarm bells in my head off. After arriving from my weekend trip to the middle of nowhere (link) I ordered the largest, most decadent pizza I could from PapaJohns - with a barbecue chicken side- devoured it and promptly fell into my bed for sleep, which was how I ended up oblivious to the clamour for my attention. ...

Wide awake, with not even a lingering hint of sleep to becloud my eyes, I pause to ponder the day that lies ahead of me. Difficult as it may be to wrap my head around them, the facts are what they are. It is very nearly six months since I last made the journey that lies ahead of me. Back then, LK was the developing conundrum, one that those days spent in the middle of nowhere ended up resolving, ultimately to my pain - not that I knew that at the time. My alarm snaps me out of my little reverie - I have a 6.00am check-in at the other end of town to contend with, and a 15 minute walk to catch the bus that will haul me across town - small margins for error given it is already 4.05am. ...

Down South, the overwhelming narrative is one of a spring in full flow, cue a flood of selfies on Instagram and Facebook, complete with the obligatory sunglasses, sleeveless tops and sandals. Up here, in my North Eastern corner of Ruralshire, the best that we have had is six degree weather and intermittent sunshine - not quite spring, but very nearly as good as it gets up here, being thankful that we are not having snow in March like we did last year. ...

You Can’t Start The Next Chapter Of Your Life If You Keep Re-Reading The Last One… I still had LK’s contact details on my phone, and about once a week I would send her a whatsapp message to see how she was getting on; even though our conversations usually involved her unloading on her issues on me - work, friends not taking her seriously anymore and the like. For one, it sent a message that I was still available - a tad too available even, and perhaps that I wasn’t entirely over her. Given the background, her unwavering declaration of not being interested romantically in me and her self declared complexity, it was always crass stupidity on my part.. ...

Still slightly depressed from all that’s happened to rock my world over the last few weeks, I drag myself down to Union Square having left work thirty minutes early. I am hoping that a little window shopping – and fresh air – will do my foul mood some good. Thirty minutes later, having made a pit stop at TK Maxx, mooched around Sole Trader and JD Sports I find myself at the Jones shop, pondering the wisdom or otherwise of splurging on a gorgeous pair of Timberland boat shoes I have found. ...

--- Let’s keep it moving in a forward motion, If we can hold on, we can cross this ocean, There’s no sense in lettin’ our emotions, Get in the way, until the door keeps closin'

I never sent this though - in retrospect, I should have, and drawn a line under the sordid, heart rending affair that was my dalliance with LK. Source: I have given our prospective Thursday evening meetup a lot more thought. Under different circumstances - if we didn’t have the ‘us’ elephant in the room - I would have no reservations whatsoever with popping into London to see you. I enjoy your company that much, and have genuinely looked forward to every second we’ve spent together. ...

As suspected, my neither here nor there dalliance with LK sputtered to it’s pretty much inevitable death. That the trigger - in her words - was a relationship seminar the day before rather than plain old irritation was more the surprise rather than that it came to that. In retrospect, I committed way too much, way too soon. If there is a lesson here it is to go slow- let the interest be known but not drop all inhibitions and lose all the mystery. There is a sense of de ja vu here - back to square zero again after five or so months, multiple dates, a start that promised much but ends yet again in the dreaded friend zone. ...