On Saturday I will mark a decade of living here in Hertfordshire. Having spent a glorious long weekend back down in Kent I'm not sure whether I'm an exile from Kent or from Hertfordshire. Weekends like the one that just went by are what summer at the seaside is made of. It could not have been better.
The Food Festival was magnificent. Wondrous food and so many friends came by that I didn't see as much as I'm hoped. Then a surprise to discover that my old teaching friend Antony was down visiting his in laws, made a day complete. Further more yesterday I caught up with a former colleague Lisa. I last saw her at a funeral in 2012 just a few months after mum died.
It all made me lean more towards going back sometime. It felt like an escape ten years ago. Perhaps on a wet winter day it would be less enticing but for just a few days I saw my kind and wonderful past. Much of that was due to taking risks, getting out, overcoming my anxiety and getting to meet people. It took a long time to meet people up here but it is now as if I have two homes.
The cricket looks like a tense finish. I haven't seen any while I was away so I have missed a classic so I'm told. I made Pimm's earlier and quite fancy another but not sure with no ice and no chilled lemonade left. Perhaps I will have tea instead.
Tomorrow looms big, 48. There is not much of a plan although I'm hoping Dory will come down from Hitchin. Some time since we saw each other. Still waiting for pay day on Thursday so better not to overdo it.
See you all soon.
I Heard a Voice.
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