Been There. Done That. All Different.

It's been three years, but I've just been back in Australia.

As always, it was wonderful to see family and friends. I spent a lot of time talking, laughing and eating with them. Great stuff. And, as always, not enough time to catch up with everyone I had hoped to see.

I visited the school at which I taught prior to moving here. In that time I've lost a couple of close teaching friends to cancer while others have moved on to other schools. In the past six years I have visited that school a couple of times, but this was the first time where I felt I had truly moved on. It will always have a huge place in my heart, but I no longer belong there.

I also realised that none of the current students were there when I was teaching.

I didn't go "sightseeing" too much - a day in the Yarra Valley, in the company of my best friend, and another in the city. I went to a favourite street - a place that was quirky and alternative - and I was so disappointed to see the weird little shops had been pushed out by increasing rents in favour of upmarket cafes, restaurants and hairdressing salons.

So sad.

Melbourne is a wonderful city but I was surprised but just how many changes there have been in the past six years.

It's true, you can't go home. Not completely.

Scotland, Again.

I left Scotland as a small child and grew up in Australia. My younger years were, of course, pre-internet days, and so most of my knowledge of Scotland was gained through books and stories from my Dad and grandparents. In my young mind, it was a magical place, a mythical place. A country where my ancestral warriors once walked, where the loch near my birthplace contained a monster, and where castle ruins dotted the landscape.

Heather and thistles, moors and mountains. A land of barren beauty, but warm and generous people. Haggis, mealy puddings, rowies and black puddings. Accents that sang as they spoke, the Doric with it's own vocabulary and grammar, and music that stirred my soul and speak to my spirit.

I first returned to Scotland 21 years after leaving, and found all this to be true. The land did call to me in ways I didn't understand. It was barren and beautiful and moody. Snow and mists. Wild and angry seas, yet calm and comforting.

One thing I will never forget from that trip was the light. People often talk of the light being different in Scotland, and it is. But it's difficult to describe.

I was there in Spring, but it was cold and misty much of the time. We even encountered a heavy snow storm on our way up from England, but even on a clear day the light was glorious. I remember going into shops and feeling warm and cosy, yet the light through the windows was soft, gentle and diffused. I suppose in many ways it was similar to the light and sparseness seen in Scandinavian dramas which have become popular over the past few years. It's a light I've tried to find elsewhere, but have never been able to.

Last week, I went up to Aberdeen for a few days to visit family. It is, of course, the middle of summer. But it was an odd week, weather wise. For the most part it was overcast and mild, and there was only one day I needed a jumper. And that was the day I walked into a cafe and BAM, there it was. That soft, cool, diffused light I had been chasing all those years. I sat and ate my soup and soaked in that atmosphere. My senses were working overtime trying to take it all in and retain it.

And it was glorious.

That trip away was probably the antidote I needed to the lockdowns here in England. The radio was playing reels and Scottish country dance music which fed my soul. The food and the accents were nostalgic and homey. The scenery was calming, and I felt a connection to the land as it called to me.

It was and still is a magical place. And I loved every second of being home again.

Don't Get Around Much Anymore.

It's coming up on two years since I last visited family and friends in Australia. What a fabulous trip! Spent time with family and friends, visited my old stomping grounds, picked up some Australian albums which had been released while I'd been away, and the same with a few books. That trip really settled and recharged me.

I have no idea when I'll be able to visit again. 

Recently, it has hit me quite hard that it may be a year or two - or even more. Technically I could travel now, if I wanted to go through the hassle of being on a plane, wearing a mask, surrounded by strangers and not receiving even the current low standards of food and drink, then going into quarantine at the other end and facing the prospect that here or there closes their borders and I'm unable to travel for extended periods. I would have to add two weeks to the trip, just to sit in a hotel in quarantine, and then possibly the same coming back here, but no-one seems sure of the rules in the UK, not even the government. But the biggest thing is the cost would be prohibitive. 

I hadn't looked at airfares for nearly two years, but was stunned to see this morning they are currently four times what I usually pay. And then the two week quarantine at the other end apparently costs about the same as 1.5 times the usual airfare price. So a trip home which I normally get for around £900 would be closer to £5000. (As I said, I'm not even sure of the quarantine coming back into the UK - that could also add to the expense.)

So no, I can't travel at the moment. And I have no desire to sit on a plane for extended hours with strangers. Heck, I'm even cautious about going to the supermarket, and limit that unless I must.

But my mental health says I need to get out and do things, see people, interact beyond the monitor in front of me. I need to chat in person, be around others and have a laugh.

Good news is always appreciated, and I've had some this week which helped. Making plans with friends and family also helps, and I've taken time to do this during the week as well. And fine wine and eating never hurts. And yes, I've partaken this week - although I've been good and watched my intake on both counts.

It's draining, isn't it? And it made me think of all those people who applied for the one way trip to Mars, including 8 months or more with a bunch of other people in a tin can ship the size of a minibus. Yup, I wonder how many of them are going crazy after a year in an actual house.

Is NASA using this time to study the psychology of people in lockdown?