One of my favourite sayings is “The grass is always greener on the other side”.
Loved the associated story as a kid, appreciate the irony of the message as an adult. It’s why we can look back at less than perfect events and see the tantalising beauty of the past.
I think it’s one of the reasons why marathon runners keep coming back for more. They forget the pain, the sweat and the tears and remember only the elation at the finish line. The unrivalled sense of achievement.
We’ve been planning travelling for a couple of months now, on and off. Well… we’ve a vague idea where we’ll be and when.
But with winter drawing in and a sunny paradise beckoning, I for one am making the most of the cold. Of wearing warm jumpers, sitting by the radiator and thinking how quaint it would be to get a fire going in the grate – if only I weren’t so lazy.
It’s only now after years of moaning I’m finally thankful of the shameless capitalisation of the birth of Christ.
This will be the first time ever we’ve been away from our families during Christmas. And to boot, it’s the first time we’ll put hopes of a white Christmas to rest. It’s going to be a strange experience being in a Buddist country on this cherished Christian holiday.
We were in London last weekend visiting friends and I was surprised to find the city already decked with Christmas lights and decorations. The sky was clear, we were bundled up in coats and scarves exploring the best of London as if for the first time but with the confidence of seasoned tube users.
Doing a chilly British weekend properly.
But there was an unseen question in the air. For three days and two nights we wouldn’t have a moment’s break for one other’s company.
We’ve booked ourselves in for three months like this, so how would we cope with a measly three days?
This, after all is the most vital preparation we could do to determine whether we’ll stay chums after ‘nam, or develop a slow-growing, powerful hatred for one another.
And after two night’s staying with Bish (poor man) and a day with Ann, I’m confident.
Although… You know what they say. If you can’t spot the crazy person in the room, it must be you.
In actual fact, I almost prefer that saying to the fabled grass is greener deal.
This blog is getting long, so I’ll tell the rest through pictures.
Unfortunately there’s none of Tom, myself and Bish playing through the whole Halo 3 campaign in one sitting – a personal highlight despite the lack of social interaction and London exploration (I think that says something about me).
And there’s none of Tom and Ann being schooled at Harry Potter Top Trumps by yours truly before our… interesting… free tour.
Went to Bounce (a ping pong bar in Shoreditch). Kept hitting on girls. Well… I kept hitting a group of innocent bystanders and had to apologise sheepishly, time and again.
What’s more shameful? Bish dabbing in front of the Imperial war museum or Tom contemplating doing a hitler impression infront of a shwateka? You tell me.
Always a little worrying when Beth meets THE TOM of whom she’s heard so much about. Joel took one for the team when we turned up an hour late. Luckily Battersea park was lovely…
Saying goodbye to Bish and his massive chin.
Spent waaaay too long in Hamley’s. I now understand why our parent’s had no qualms buying us toys (it was kinda for them too).
Ann was NOT happy about the amount of walking we did. Something like 20,000 steps if I remember rightly? Becuase I was counting…