I've been home for two weeks now. Two weeks since I left himself in Munich. It's flown by. I was supposed to leave for Singapore last Thursday but felt so strange leaving home so soon. It doesn't affect my overall plan for the next few months. So, feck it, why not? An extra week with the family and the two dogs is just what the doctor ordered. I've done loads of nice family things. Nothing terribly interesting but all so satisfying. Mostly just stuff like helping my little brother move up to college for his first year, go test drive electric cars with my dad (that he has no intention of ever buying) and helping my ma to pack for her own holiday. I also drank way too much tea, brought the dogs for many a walk and got to listen to how my great Aunt was chatted up by a youthful 75 year old on the beach this year when she was on hold with my gran in Tramore, Co. Waterford. Apparently, some glistening pensioner came up to her on the beach in nothing but a towel and insisted she take his number. My gran was jealous out the door; going on and on about it being 'indecent'. But I nearly choked when my great aunt said "we'll, at least I know upfront I'm not buying a pig in a blanket'. My gran was raging.
Anyway, it's the last few days now at home, in the middle of absolutely nowhere and even though I decided to stay an extra week it doesn't feel enough somehow.
It's never fecking easy, is it?
Maybe when I get back I'll spend a bit longer at home in the wilds of Wexico either walking the dogs or test driving the latest electric car on the market.
I'm looking forward to it already.
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