Part of what Flying Gurnards & Other Concoctions usually displays are the maps of routes taken since leaving home. The neat orderly geographical drawings always puts the roads traveled more in perspective. But a month after my brief emergency visit I have returned to Northern Ireland and it seemed more fitting to share the two images below than a pictured part of an atlas.
Two years ago I took that photo of the small village on the Irish Sea. It will be my home for now.
And below it a parting shot of one of my Arab buddies, who clambered into my suitcase whilst packing and gave me his solemnly sweet Cyclops stare. It hurts leaving the two dudes behind, more than I can describe. The worst is that it is not my choice, leaving them behind. They just couldn't come where I was going.
Although her major neck and face surgery in September was a success my Mother is in the race for the long haul: A grueling radio therapy period is on the horizon and will last until Christmas Eve day. It will affect her health deeply on many levels and I admire her brave perseverance greatly. So I have left the Middle East, diving and my two feline dudes and I am going to stand by her side. The boys are being well taken care of and won't have to learn how cold COLD weather can be whereas I threw out my last pair of flipflops and am learning what shoes feel like again (Hello, blisters)
Apart from the heart ache of leaving Khabil and Jamal I have plenty of reasons to be superbly grateful for life's happenings and this also entails the decision of moving to N-Ireland. I'll be able to hold my Mum close when things get ugly. I will also get to harass some family and friends who live around these parts. And I will get to experience the changing of the seasons again and play in the snow (I love snow!)
Always stay in tune for what life brings up to bat. Cause you should always take a crack at it, and never ever forget to smile while you're at it. You might hit a homerun and run around cheering like a maniac.
Two years ago I took that photo of the small village on the Irish Sea. It will be my home for now.
And below it a parting shot of one of my Arab buddies, who clambered into my suitcase whilst packing and gave me his solemnly sweet Cyclops stare. It hurts leaving the two dudes behind, more than I can describe. The worst is that it is not my choice, leaving them behind. They just couldn't come where I was going.
Although her major neck and face surgery in September was a success my Mother is in the race for the long haul: A grueling radio therapy period is on the horizon and will last until Christmas Eve day. It will affect her health deeply on many levels and I admire her brave perseverance greatly. So I have left the Middle East, diving and my two feline dudes and I am going to stand by her side. The boys are being well taken care of and won't have to learn how cold COLD weather can be whereas I threw out my last pair of flipflops and am learning what shoes feel like again (Hello, blisters)
Apart from the heart ache of leaving Khabil and Jamal I have plenty of reasons to be superbly grateful for life's happenings and this also entails the decision of moving to N-Ireland. I'll be able to hold my Mum close when things get ugly. I will also get to harass some family and friends who live around these parts. And I will get to experience the changing of the seasons again and play in the snow (I love snow!)
Always stay in tune for what life brings up to bat. Cause you should always take a crack at it, and never ever forget to smile while you're at it. You might hit a homerun and run around cheering like a maniac.
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