Monday 20 January 2014

There are no foreign lands. It is the traveller only who is foreign - Robert Louis Stevenson

Time is certainly flying. I can't believe how quickly it goes by. And while on the one hand I am settling matters galore, on the other hand there is still so much left to sort out. Such is my life at this present time.

I continue to settle into my new job. My colleagues are lovely and welcoming, the clients are charming, the environment delightful. I also continue to settle into my new life. Calm, fulfilling, enchanting and fun.

I'm re-discovering more and more old acquaintances. And making new ones. My books on allotments have arrived in preparation for sowing the first seeds. My wellies and gardening gloves are at the ready. I'm also baking bread again. Kneading and pounding like a pro. A fairly mean fougasse being my latest triumph.

But not all goes so well. There are obstacles to my total contentment.  An application I made for a particular bank account was refused. It would seem I am not a safe bet. Shocking to hear, I might tell you. Certainly as I have never owed a penny to anyone in my life. Who'd have thought that could be detrimental. Apparently, there's little trace of me in this country over the past decade or more, good or bad.  Which makes me a risk of some sort. Never mind. Such are the trials of an expat.

I will say though that bank appointments are some of the most tedious meetings ever. That said, my last one was a tad more lively once I knew the counsellor loved photography. Our time was pleasantly interspersed with photographic exchanges of great value. To me. He was a whizz with a lens. Once I saw his work, I was ashamed to admit that I had a camera, never mind used it. And extensively. So off I go to practice some more. And then some more again...

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