We'll just have to imagine the giant 'We're sorry you're leaving' card, and the cake. Instead, I'll put on my smartest pants for this last column and drink cheap Bulgarian wine out of a plastic cup as I write it. If you do the same as you read, it will be just like a real office party. Around the fourth paragraph, I'll be drunk enough to photocopy my buttocks and maybe make inappropriate sexual suggestions to my mouse.
For starters, we can have an almost sober chat about what the future holds. It's been fun working here, but I won't miss the commuting. Frankly, I'm looking for a job closer to my bed. I'll probably take six months off, travel the world and get to know who I am. Maybe I'll go to Vietnam – I hear they're a really spiritual people. No plans to jump into another job straight away – if you see someone behind the counter at McDonald's who looks like me, it's definitely not.
The wine is starting to take effect and I'm getting honest. When I started this column back in 2010, I made a very deliberate decision not to be nice to Poland. I don't mean I decided to be negative, I mean I decided not to be condescending. Far too many foreigners write about Poland as if it's a six-year-old boy who has just learned to tie his shoelaces. If I have to read one more sentence about the 'indomitable Poles' or the 'beautiful Tatras,' I'm going to throw up. Poland is grown up enough to take a bit of honesty.
Now standing on my chair, I want everybody's attention for some slurred announcements. Thank you all. Thanks to Wirtualna Polska for inviting me to publish my words on their fine website. Thanks to everyone who read those words. Thanks to everyone who supported me in the comments and thanks to everyone who didn't support me in the comments but refrained from telling me to go home. Thanks for the reposts and the Facebook quotes and thanks for the weird, long emails. I'll see you all again… one day.
Anybody calling a taxi…?
Jamie Stokes
