As I lay awake at 3am this morning a thought slowly drifted into my sleep addled brain. “You’re 42” it said, “and you left the UK in 2003, fourteen years ago.”
Great, my brain was throwing numbers at me instead of sleeping, and it’s a persistent thing.
“You do realise 14 is a third of 42, don’t you?”
Now my brain did a little jog, it knew it had won and woken me fully with this surprising fact.
So here I am pondering what it means to have spent the last third of my life living somewhere other than the land of my birth. I still speak with a recognisible English accent and in my sleep still dream of driving Warwickshire’s country lanes to visit friends, but I wouldn’t change the adventures I had. I know that if I had to go back and spend the rest of my days in England I’d forever be driving folks mad with tales of life overseas, and how things are in other places.
I know there are many adventures still to come!