I don’t have much of a view in my apartment in Hong Kong, the floor I’m on is too low for one of those famous breath-taking vistas, but I do see a tiny sliver of ocean in between the buildings. To me, right now, it feels like another almost-situation, which is quite appropriate, I guess. I don’t have everything I want, but I do have some things. Technically, I have everything I need to keep me alive, and to maybe even offer me a shot at happiness, but from where I’m sitting, it feels like I need more. I do also see a cross though, it’s large and white and it’s perched on a high concrete podium. I’m nowhere near religious, but I guess the cross I see every time I gaze at my little sliver of ocean, could stand for hope. It must be. It even lights up in the dark.

My personality was way too defeatist to allow me to believe that every cloud had a silver lining, but breaking up with Nathalie did get me a job in London. No longer being unemployed meant I could start paying rent, which in turn meant I no longer had to live on Julia’s couch. One thing I’ve learnt from moving around so much, is that a place of your own, even if it’s just one tiny room − as long as it has four walls and a door and, preferably, a window − is one of the most important treasures in life.

I didn’t have to look very long for a place to live as another old friend of mine, Alex, was looking for a new flat mate. I never thought it was going to be me, but because I found a job so quickly, I was able to sign the tenancy agreement straight away. Things started to look up. I even called my mum and told her she should come and visit me soon. Living with Alex did mean I had to put up with the campiest burgundy curtains and the grandest of chandeliers in the living room, but camp stuff is better than no stuff. Either way, I didn’t care about all of that when I was twenty-two, all I wanted was to forget about Nathalie and find a real girlfriend. But before I could focus on that, I had a job to do.

My new boss, Theresa ‘Don’t you dare call me Mrs Sanders or ma’am or whatever, this is not the army!’ Sanders, was quite a piece of work. She was fierce, loud, hilarious and very unattractive, which was great because it would automatically stop me from falling for my straight boss again. Doing someone else’s dirty work didn’t exactly make my heart flutter with excitement, but it was a start. At least working for Theresa was never boring. Her favourite word to use in any circumstance was an extravagantly shouted misery. As in, “Theresa, that guy can’t make it tomorrow, shall I reschedule?” “Oh, misery!” Or, “Theresa, the printers are down, can you wait five minutes?” “Misery, Lee, such misery!” She sulked and pouted a lot, but I never got the impression it was targeted at me, or anyone else in the office. She was pretty great, actually, in a crazy granny sort of way. And she ended up doing me a lot of favours.

Life was good, for a while.

To be continued…