Going going...

These are my last few hours in England. I don't know when I will return. My leaden heart grows heavy as I survey my room and look at all the things I am leaving behind, and all the people I will miss.

Finally packed virtually everything at 2.15am. Toni Morrison and Sliva Plath had a last minute reprieve, whilst Simon Schama had to be subsituted. I have 5 decades worth of Dylan, some Smiths, Bjork and Bowie. I have about a quarter of the photos I wanted to take. I'm not going to finish Possession by AS Byatt (I read 350 pages, only about 70 to go...) or see Hero with Jet Li. I won't know what Laura will do with the baby, or if Barry will figure out Jennine. I'm going to forget all the 2 letter words that are valid in Scrabble.

I see the road ahead has trees, mountains and streams. The track is well worn, but everything is new to me. The air is fresh and clean. I can see people further up, though cannot make there faces. The first few steps are hardest to take, and my friends give gentle encouragement as I step out and step up. It's a new day at dawn and I've finally arrived.

I'll let you know what else I can see...