Friday, 2 February 2018

The road ends...

  I went from the Kent coast through the countryside to the dentist, a four hour round trip, passing the end of the roads lanes and tracks of some of the homes of my life.  My family history as a guide.  Memories, good, bad and sad accompanied me on my journey.  In a funny way I was content as I drove through the highways and byways of a life well spent. 

A converted chapel, in a village outside of Tunbridge Wells which unwittingly was the start of my life in the Highlands.

A beautiful cottage just a mile from Chartwell, set in the most magical setting.  Pain and all too early death was the memory of this chapter.  A little dog who gave me so much love and support when the man died.  I let her smell his body that early morning as we waited for the district nurse’s first visit of the day. By doing that she knew and never looked for him again, animals treat death as humans should... be accepting of 
what is after all just a natural process.

The track leading to the last cottage where I had lived for fourteen years, surprisingly I didn’t feel the pull that I expected.  It was a happy home, but it was time to move on.  
Go to the sea, what better way?
Already we both feel wedded to our new surroundings just eight weeks in, and still so much to do...
a happystance.

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