Since I've recently been posting pictures of last month's trip to the UK I suppose the assumption might be made that somehow I'm longing to be back there. Nothing could be further from the truth. We always enjoy our travels, and it's highly satisfactory to think back on them, but I'm more than content with where I am at the present moment. Funnily enough I can recall a time - when I lived in the UK - when that wasn't so. Despite a general enjoyment of life then and what it had to offer, I know I felt a need to be somewhere else. I can recall evenings in the pub at weekends, often with Dave Stott (with whom we shared some time on our recent trip), on which I felt vaguely discontented at what seemed the littleness of my experience. I needed to go somewhere else. And I did.
And here I simply don't have those feelings, despite the littleness of our world in this Far Place and environs. This came home to me with particular force this afternoon, munching on some freshly concocted blueberry & lemon bread (courtesy of the Missus), drinking immoderate amounts of tea and listening to Richard Hawley's Lowedges and Bill Frisell's Nashville (both albums named after other far places, oddly enough.) I neither needed nor wanted to be elsewhere.