One for the Road: Goodbye, sort of…

I used to look forward to the weekly ritual of sitting down to write my column, but, since the New Year, the whole process has felt a wee bit icky.

For the last four weeks, you see, I’ve known something that most of you have not.

And how would you, for god’s sake? Like the man who stole the mirror from McCann’s, I’ve been keeping quiet about it.

Since acquiring this knowledge, though – which, by the way, has implications for the future of our relationship – I really have been meaning to get around to telling you. However, each week, sitting down to the white, vacant, virginal document, with the intention of divulging my secret, I’ve ended up slabbering on about something else.

Writing variously about Bob Dylan, The Beatles, my expensive root canal and the belly-busting effects of festive gluttony, I’ve felt like a parent rambling wildly about the weather, all the while failing to mention the forthcoming divorce.

Anyway, this long play of duplicitous prevarication ends today. Here goes… I’m heading to Southeast Asia and I don’t know when I’ll be back.

(I’m sorry you had to find out this way Mum and Da, but I just couldn’t bare to tell you in person and watch your shattered expressions. But don’t worry, all the pain of this impersonal goodbye will be washed away in an instant when you see the awesome key rings I bring you BOTH back!)

In all seriousness, though, we board a flight from Dublin Airport next Thursday, stop off for an hour in Istanbul and then resume our southeasterly arc across the sky until we eventually arrive in Bangkok.

South Thailand, Vietnam, Laos, North Thailand, Cambodia – that’s the route so far. After that, we’ll see the craic.

Are you excited for me? Has my good news set your heart a-flutter? Probably not.

In fact, at this point, I bet two things are happening inside your head.

The first is that you’re beginning to like me even less than you already did, but you’re not quite sure why. That is called jealousy and for it there is no cure.

The second is that a question – and attendant hope – is beginning to form in your mind: “Does this mean we are getting rid of this wee tube for good?”

And it thrills me to the bearer of bad news and tell you… Nah, you aren’t.

Last week, myself, two solicitors, an accountant and an enforcer sat down in a dimly lit room, opposite a team of North West News Group’s top negotiators.

After hours of offers and counter offers, line-drawing and lowballing, browbeating and eyeballing, it was agreed that I can take my column on tour.

I’m now in the process of trying to get the name (which, by the way, I’ve never been overly fond of) changed from ‘One For the Road’ to ‘One For The Road, On The Road’, but that’s still up in the air.

Anyway, I’ll save all the rest of that sort of fascinating behind-the-scenes stuff for my future best-selling autobiography, ‘From John Street to Jakarta’.

If the Irish don’t buy it, the Indonesians will.

So, aye, that’s pretty much the craic and it feels good to eventually get it off my chest.

Before I go, I’d like to say thanks to everybody that I have worked with over the last number of years and especially those who have allowed me to tell their stories.

Whether you’ve trusted me to get your new single some attention, highlight an issue that is close to your heart or help you pay a tribute to a loved one, it has been a real privilege to be involved in your lives. If anybody wants to contact me when I’m away, feel free to email me on: emcelhatton03@qub.ac.uk.

I’ll not be writing any news for while though, so if your granny runs away or your dog is doing a skydive for Air Ambulance, please address your correspondence to your number one provider of local news, the Ulster Herald.

That’ll do for this week, I reckon.

The next time you read anything from me, know that I’ll have just landed in 35°C smog-smothered Bangkok.