Going Home

It’s been an interesting couple of weeks, full of highs and lows. But now, I’m sitting in Manchester Airport departures, ready to head home. I’ve been bumped up into Business Class, as if someone knew I needed a helping hand, and I’m not about to take a picture of my boarding pass.

At some point over the next week or so, life must return to normal. And I’ve kind of lost track over the past fortnight, but I think we still managed a post a day together, didn’t we? Thanks for being there.

Tomorrow’s post may well be from mid-air, somewhere over Africa. But I’m not promising anything .

2 thoughts on “Going Home

  1. In April 2000 we flew back to Heathrow and took the train to Sheffield after we had buried my Dad in Australia. The funny thing is that I felt like we were coming home.

  2. Max Brinsmead > 🙂
    It’s a subjective term, I guess. I think – I know – that you can have more than one, but there’s always that place where you feel most comfortable.

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