As much as I have come to appreciate my adopted home of Swanage, sometimes you just need a change of scenery, so last week found the by now familiar homecoming greeting sign declaring the town "Gateway to the Jurasic coast" shrinking and reversed in my rear view mirror as Hans, mini Ken and I set off on a bit of a jaunt.

First stop, because I did not fancy doing the 11 hour drive in one go, the M3 and M1 are not deserted Australian highways, was London and an overnighter with Franc and Donna. Franc and I have not seen each other since my departure from London and that is far too long. There, as I told him, have been many times when I could have done with hearing his chirpy hello down the telephone. We started early, as was to be the recurring motif for the week, with a cheeky dram that would, according to the packet of sample coffee I had brought with me, perfectly accompany this afternoon caffeine interlude.

By Ten to One the following morning, now joined by Donna, many subjects had been covered, gossip was most certainly caught up on, my position and plans came under scrutiny as they are well allowed by these two and there was significant end of evening banter about how crap I might feel the next day facing the drive up to Glasgow.

Actually I felt fine the next day, Franc however, didn't make it out that evening and I got the blame. My reputation it seems after so many months away, remains intact.

Sitting down with France and Donna, I wish you to know, I found myself very humbled, in a manner that I have also found when in Karen and Alan's flat, there are pictures of Tash prominent, front and centre and I was happy to be able to be with her in their house, where we have had many happy times together.

As much as Glasgow beckoned, Mark, my friend from University, had a rehearsal to attend that evening (he is a sound artist / musician), so in leaving London for once there was a time to aim for, rather than the usual balls to the wall speed up the motorway. The drive therefore a relaxing affair, stopping off in Birmingham for an important visit to see my nephew, who having returned from six months in South America is now making his first steps into the work market post University. We are close and have not seen each other for a year, my sister had not told him about the "new look" so it was an interesting reversal of position when we met, he dressed smartly in a suit and me now bearded with long hair in travelling mode. Tash was very fond of Gav'arn (it is actually Gavin, but it is too ridiculous a story how she came to christen him that) and we of him, though it was lovely to see him at last, it was of course unbearably sad. My nephew, who is now a man, found some beautiful and meaningful things to say during our time together, I wish he could of been with us too, but in life some things are not always possible.

The early afternoon motorway driving gave way to a cross country detour on a route Tash and I have taken before, the John Smedley factory shop lives just up from Derby, my old stomping ground, in the Derbyshire dales (rolling hills and a few mini mountains, to translate). The shop was shutting when I arrived, but that really wasn't the reason for being there, this was a bit of a silent homage to the trips Tash and I had made up to Scotland, following the same Sat Nav directed route as we had done several times before Hans and I glided over hill and valley silhouetted in the most beautiful winter setting sun, it seemed that the world knew why we were there and was allowing me to bid a farewell.

As I have written there has been much collateral damage since Tash died, some parts of which, no, some people of which, are being recovered, not always my work I am keen to add. Mark was one of the unlucky ones who didn't know what happened in May, he was out of the country and after a perfunctory email exchange between us a couple of months ago I realise I couldn't leave without seeing the man I describe as the better part of me - We look similar, well used to, and his temperament is something I have always strived for, calm to the point of stoned, whereas I am creative, mark is also poetic in his creations, his manner is also exceedingly pleasant and I have never heard a bad word said against him. If you know the problems that I sometimes encounter with people, then you can see why I hold Mark in such high esteem, he is like a brother to me. We caught up, talked about what has happened, discussed my confusion and fear over the future. He told me that he was proud about the things that I had done in Tash's name (for the record, the wife disliked most of my chums, Mark was the great exception, so this was not idle banter we were having) and with that comment I felt another silent block fall into place, I was a step closer to being able to leave the country.

You have heard a lot about the London friends, the coterie Core4 in particular, but Tash had another significant group of friends from her first major job in the city, the boys from JP Morgan. Graham and his wife Lindsay always have hosted the best, most alcoholic parties, no one could write me off quite as well as my fellow Whisky drinker Graham, they have an excuse of course, both being Scottish. Tash and I last saw them, and in fact Mark too, about 18 months ago on our last trip up, though I had seen them in May, this was the first time the three of us had any time together, well I say that, Robyn is now three and as demanding as any first born should be and now joined by her younger sister Stella (I don't think she is named after the larger). Stella and I bonded over a fresh tomato sauce I was cooking for her and her sisters dinner, I like a girl who appreciates being cooked for, it is just a shame that she is twenty five years too young. In a reality where so many of our friends are having babies, either their first (how is it going Marisa?) or experiencing their second (that will be the the rest of you then) I am relieved that there is a consistent ten year generational age gap in my family, babies, unlike a certain someone I could mention, do not feel me with a dread that they will explode on contact. Being with Graham and Lindsay felt the same as my time spent in Verona. A significant visit.

Leaving Edinburgh with it's bright clear sunny, but sub zero weather temperature, presented a new problem to be dealt with, driving south into the sun with my sunglasses snug in their winter hideaway in Swanage. Fortuitous then that the previous week my mother was in the car and had left her fully blacked out, wrap around, old aged pensioner sunnies in passenger door bin, so off I sauntered down the motorway looking like Jackie Onasis.

Some of you might have noticed that I choose to mark the 4th November, six months since, with the final post on the Tao of Tash. Despite knowing how the website should be completed a couple of months ago, actually writing the piece was .... well clearly painful, to be honest it has become far more significant that I initially imagined, marking perhaps a pivotal point in my journey of bereavement. But as one giveth out, one gets given back, and it has also stirred up a serious undercurrent of emotion that I still find myself dealing with ......all to do with leaving, both her and our life in England.

The tickets are then finally booked, I board the 08:30 Air New Zealand flight to San Francisco on Tuesday 6th January. In no small way this terrifies me, I am now fully responsible for the rest of my life, for my future happiness and for my role in the legacy of our Tash. If you want to see me whilst I am still in the UK, you should really get your skates on because I am not coming to you.

Until Christmas then.