Cold, wet, miserable, droopy tail and frizzy fur (again). It was not the good morning that had boded so much early promise. At OFFS hrs this morning, Mother Nature put on the most magnificent dawn display. The sun was still just below the horizon, but the low, grey clouds were already lit from below and shone in places bright red, orange and pink. It was only two degrees above freezing as I cocked a contemplative leg against a convenient tree and considered the forthcoming day. Continue reading “Well ‘ard”
Just for the record, in case it doesn’t survive on MyT.
“After several days of deliberation, that’s it for me. Any decent blogs, threads and comments have been deleted or buried yet again tonight (and this morning and yesterday and the day before) beneath a tidal wave of spam, trolls and egos crayonning away in the corner.
I’m off, not that anyone left here will probably care or notice. This is not a flounce and I”ll still look in occasionally, but I’m only returning when the Mods and/or the authors of this site get a grip. In the meantime and beyond I’ll be on Bearsy’s blog.”
There are many of us who have moved “abroad” – Cymbeline to the Caribbean, Bravo to Russia, Nobby to China, Bearsy and Boadicea (assuming you’re not a native Sheila :-)) and CH Luke to Australia, Bubbles and Dickie Doo-Dah to France, Janus to Denmark and yours truly to Portugal, to name but a few. In the other direction there are brave souls such as Shermeen and the sadly missed Petite Marie who moved to Blighty and who in their own way are also living “abroad”.
In Portuguese culture there is a concept of saudades, which roughly translates as an exile’s longing for the mother country. In Germany they talk of heimat – the homeland, but I know of no such cloying sentiment about England’s green and pleasant land, except that certain expats still refer to the tender ministrations of a bucket-shop airline as “going home”, which to me shows entirely the wrong mindset. For me, going home now is always, instinctively and without fail, a black cab to the airport and a one-way flight back to The Cave and the wide hillsides of deepest Portugal. Don’t get me wrong – I shall always be a proud Englishman and at some point in the future there will be a little bit of a Portuguese mountain that will be forever England, but I have no desire ever to return and, quite frankly, feel little affinity with the land I left.
So, how’s it going for you? Have you settled well into your adopted country, learned the language, made friends and adapted to your new circumstances? More importantly. do you ever even think about the profound step you took (for make no mistake it was a very profound step), or do you still retain saudades for your home country, a stranger in a strange land?