Yesterday should have been my first day at home after a journey of a lifetime to Australia and New Zealand. Ah, the best laid plans. Instead I’ve been home for nearly three weeks and have already completed my photo book and am awaiting its delivery from PhotoBox.
I enjoyed putting the book together and sifting through my hundreds of photographs. Although my adventure was cut short, I still managed to do a lot and it was fun looking back at the photographic evidence.
And yet, although I have physical memories of my travels, I find that I have no emotional ones. I feel as though I’m looking back across many years and all I remember are the facts. I’m not sure why this should be so for I had a wonderful time seeing places I’d dreamed of and meeting up with family again after a long and eventful time.
Is it because my return was abrupt and unexpected, the travel drawn out and COVID-19 the only thing on the collective mind? Certainly Scotland felt like a different country. Has anyone else had a similar experience?
J, No emotional memories. That’s an interesting observation and kind of sad. The virus has a LOT to answer for. When I first saw that amazing photo I thought it was the lobe of a diseased lung …. until I scrolled up!
I love all the “I can’t decide where to go for Easter – the lounge or the bedroom?” jokes that are going around. I expect I’ll spend most of Easter in the fridge. Have rearranged my tins, again! At least the corned beef is no longer laughing at me.
Trip to St John’s yesterday for training and mask fitting was very sobering. The anaesthetists are wandering around looking haunted. And I happily walked into anaesthetic room 7 only to discover it has been turned into a bereavement room for relatives. On the plus side, I tried three brands of face mask and all of them leaked so management can’t really put me in a Covid Ward till that’s sorted. Grateful right now for a small bony chin and large double chin!