Monday, June 15, 2009


june 14 2009

Not even a month and I'm in England.
I can't wait.

It's been 40 years ago I visited the family my father stayed with when he served in the Royal Airforce in England. We lost contact when my father died, because my mother somehow "lost" his address book.
I wish I'm able to meet people who knew him during WW2. He served in High Wycombe and Wolverhampton and other places I don't know.

With my father I visited London elaborately.
Like many tourists we waited in line for hours to see the crown jewels, and visited many of the places that are on millions and millions of photos all across the world.(Makes one wonder why people still take photos. LOL!)
We also went where tourists usually don't walk. The streets in the small villages that didn't belong to London in the far past and now have disappeared in the large world city.
It was like stepping back in time, walking in the scenery of an old movie.

In a way it was.
He told some war time memories. The nice ones.
The worse ones came later, when I was grown up and his army chaplain enjoyed visiting my little children.

That summer his warfamily and their neighbour took us all around Great Britain.
I assume they never expected they would pave the floor of my strong feelings of home I longed for when I was back in my own country.
So many memories were created that I could nothing but long for the hills, the lakes, the accents, sausages and smells.
Some days I wish I'd win a large sum of money and I could take my children to all those places where people smiled at me and the sun and rain looked down on me.

How I wish I could travel freely and without worry to all those places that'll have changed with time. But the winds will blow the same in Wales at the coast, where I stood like someone ripped a page from a book, they will blow the same as when I stood on the hill in the lake district and knew where I belonged.

All those people, I think they're gone now.
But I know the places they loved.
They showed them with their hearts, and I've cherished all that love with the same intensity all those years.

I would love to find the place where we looked out on one of those beautiful panoramas near Kendal. I would love to speak the language of the black country again with the old miners that still sound in my mind.

Reality is harsh though.
I can't go everywhere.
My budget shrinks every day we near departure.
Like always the children go first.

I'm happy that at least I can walk the streets of London again, and maybe take the train to see more of the country that I hope will be my home in the near future.


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