So after 240 days I finally reach my second break, and therefore the end of part two of my journey. I’m returning to the UK for rest and recuperation, and moreover, to decide what to do next.
I wrote previously that I’d decided I wouldn’t come back. That decision is under review. A change is as good as a rest. And a brief period in the old country might reverse my decision. The horrors of England might have me running back here with a chain of garlic and onions hanging round my neck as fast as I can say Oh la la – not that I’ve ever heard anybody in France say that.
I suppose the real factor is the threat of unemployment and after listening to dire economic forecast after dire economic forecast on the radio, it doesn’t seem the land of plenty at the moment. Plus I’ve rather enjoyed having a few silver coins in my pocket to spend on the odd croissant or glass of wine and to put a bit in the bank for a rainy day. Or rather, put a bit in the bankers’ bank accounts for them to spend on a rainy day in England while they are in Barbados, such were my debts before I left.
It’s a question of happiness. I’ve been content here, but not entirely happy. Work in progress perhaps. The beginning of something. So in many ways it might be a shame to end it here on the account of an indifferent year. Like a football striker who’s had a lean year, but who next season scores a hatful and ends up lifting the European cup. Torres one year, Messi the next.
But football aside – if possible – a decision will be made one way or the other. It may turn out to be good, or it may turn out to be bad. But as I’ve said many times to myself, it’s only a long way down the line that you can truly judge the effects of your actions. And perhaps only fully at the very end. Point being, I can’t predict the future, so it probably doesn’t matter what I do.
Best option I think is to arm myself with a broad smile, a good pair of shoes, a long stick, and to go out into the world and do the best I can. May the holiday commence.