I have a theory, admittedly immature, that the human life is punctuated by pivotal events and decisions, nexus points, at approximately prime multiples of years i.e. 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, 17, 23 and so on up the prime number series. This means you will have life-changing moments at (for the second prime number) age 3, 6, 12 (puberty?), 15, 18, 21 and so on. Similarly, the higher primes correspond to bigger moments — take the fourth prime, for example, and you get ages 7, 14, 21, 28 and 35. Who doesn’t recognise these as approximately the ages of major life changes? Perhaps they also add constructively, so an age with 2 or more prime factors is more likely to include a major event. Of course, maybe there are just major events every year, and we choose to recognise them as such when it suits us. Fine, I choose to recognise them at prime intervals. So be it.

Anyway, I am concentrating on the fourth prime at the moment. At 14 I started becoming an adult, physically at least (I was huge compared to the other 14 year olds. I could have been a good bully if I’d been that self- and politically-aware at the time.) 21 is a recognised turning point — key to the house/car/city and all that jazz — and we left the country at 28, a pretty big deal by most people’s estimations. My next point should be 35 — and it will no doubt be a big deal since 5 x 7 = 35 and 4 x 9 = 36. Until then, I should just be happy sitting around, working tirelessly for the bank and raking in on-call money like I invented the idea. But I can’t stay still.

Perhaps it’s because 29 is a prime too, or perhaps I’m just bored. Either way it feels like I — we! — are at a turning point right now. The question is: which way do we turn?

Okay, I’ll confess — this is more because we’d already decided to move down to London and then were hit with another potential offer from the good folk at Danielle’s work — how about we move to Singapore, and by the way, the new team at Singapore is taking your jobs. As I say, it’s all “potential” — we were meant to hear last week (nothing) or this week (nothing yet — but it’s only Tuesday, mardi, dienstag) — but we’ve not heard a peep. Not so great for the cynic, or the conspiracy theorist. Already a french-man named JC (I think it stands for Jesus Christ, but I can’t confirm that) has said he thinks they are just leading us on. I tend to agree most of the time — who wants to argue with Joshua the King, saviour for so many, a virgin-born Anakin Skywalker for the Middle East — but occasionally I find I suffer moments of illogical optimism and think it would be great. I could hang out in Buddhist temples, challenging the monks to tests of gong fu, learning Chinese (mandarin, puhtongua, zhongwen). What’s more, I could take a break from the so-called “Information Technology” industry, which seems neither Informative nor Technological, nor even Industrious for that matter. Pull pints by night, write any one of twelve novels by day, and be supported by my hard-working, long-suffering beloved. Hey, I’m lucky she likes my writing — I may even get the chance to try some version of the lifestyle above one day. Maybe.

But anyway, I’ve applied for a relocation within my company to London, so that’s option number two. Actually, it’s option one — we planned that first, thinking we could finally unleash the hidden socialites within ourselves, break free from the cloistered life we’ve lead in Edinburgh — we know all of two people, and actually like even fewer — and hang out with our fellow Aussies and their adopted Poles (or is it the other way ’round?). Oh, too have a social life! What bliss!

So yeah, they’re the options, and I must confess I swing between one or the other with alarming frequency (it may be circular frequency actually — my thoughts spin at phi) and can’t decide between the two.

Oh well, let fate decide I guess?