Blue Remembered Hills

I flew back to New Zealand two weeks ago, for only the second time since I left.  The occasion of my visit was the Premiere of my younger daughter’s short film, Shmeat.  Coming as it did so shortly after learning that I was not to be continuing my role in Aboriginal Heath promotion and Trachoma prevention, the visit felt rather symbolic . It was enlightening to see that my girls are now adults with friends, plans, dreams and lives that they were managing perfectly well for themselves.  It also made me realise there was no longer a single valid reason for me to return permanently to NZ,  The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there.  

I returned to a house and job that I would soon be leaving, but I have a new job to move to, and a new location.  Once again, for the umpteenth time I am turning to something I have never done before, but for which much of my previous experience seems to have prepared me. I already have ideas.  Those I have discussed with my soon-to-be superiors were well received.

So it is time once again to pack up, shed more of my unnecessary accumulated impedimenta and move on.  The prospect of living even more remotely than I do now is both daunting and strangely attractive.  The first plus that occurs to me is there is a lake not far from where I’ll be.  Not the ocean, but it may be an acceptable surrogate.

There is only one direction: forward.