Today is final packing day. Tomorrow morning I leave the Bumpkinsville area for the next volume in my life (‘chapter’ didn’t seem long enough. I’m hoping for more than just one chapter).
I’m going to miss quite a bit. Obviously the beautiful countryside:
The donkeys I’ve made friends with on my runs in Mum and Dad’s Bumpinsville (That horse by the way – you know – Kylie. It turns out she’s not Kylie – she’s a he, and he’s called Bobby. I’d like to publicly apologise for that non story. Bobby’s human was very entertained when I told her about my assumptions though; I think it’s just Bobby who might have been slightly offended…):
The ability to add extra features to my running ‘head’ (nose bottom right, chin bottom center):
My friends. I’ve had cards, hugs and – from a group of running friends – a set of cake forks. On our 8am long Saturday runs we always finish at a coffee shop. And sometimes have a piece of cake and a fork each. These thoughtful friends have equipped me with forks so I just need to find the cake, and the running friends (preferably ones that don’t think it’s slightly scary that someone is running with four forks… :o/. ):
My Mum’s cooking and my Dad’s labeling of leftovers:
The mystery here is how they ever know what they are actually getting out the freezer for dinner (I think this was Mary Berry’s Saturday night chicken….)
And one more mystery: the bacon:
Over the last 12 weeks there has always been bacon in the fridge. The amount varies on a weekly basis, yet I have never seen either parent ever eat any. I’ve never eaten any. Norman – even thought he would love to – has never eaten any. I can only assume that when I go out running, my parents tuck into speedy bacon sarnies.
But turn all this on it’s head, and this is my chance to find more of all these great things. More and different. And I hope you’ll come along for the ride with me.
And to Mum and Dad: Thank you for putting up with me, Norman and his stinky poo. For all the cooking, the cooking lessons, the best cheese on toast in the world and for only getting a little bit cross about how much washing I do. It’s meant lots. Now you finally get the peace and quiet – and your washing machine – back. :o)