A Good Year of Sorts

In which I reflect on my year and a bit of returning to the land of my prodigality, once removed.

According to TripIt, I spent a hundred and seventeen days travelling this year, a stat which was a tad surprising seeing as the whole point of ending my last season of prodigal-ing abroad was to spend more time at home with family. A curious succession of events, including a change foisted on me at he last minute by work, meant I spent most of my week days in the Netherlands, less any days I could justify (read invent) a reason for working from home or the home office. As anyone who travels a lot will tell you, the initial buzz of flying - the airport lounges, the (odd) upgrade to business class and all - fade very quickly at that scale, becoming more trudge than delight. My particular case was exacerbated by Brexit - each transit across the border being a painful rigmarole of long queues and more than a few terse exchanges with border control on the Dutch side. On more than one occasion, strong words were exchanged and men - always men it seems - fronted up each other as though fists might fly. Commonsense prevailed on all occasions, thankfully. I promise, I was never one of those who came close to throwing around fist cuffs.

Three of those trips were to the North East, one of which was long enough to catch up with U, an all round first class experience of mental jousting and real life stories which dare I say I had missed far too much. The delights of seeing her after more than a few years more than made up for the rigmarole of catching the tube across London to St Pancras and then having the day of hell with the trains - standing room alone as it were. It is fair to say that the North East is somewhere I have to justify some longer work trips to in the near future, on the off chance that it might provide a window to take in her world renowned pepper soup once again.

Six days in Nigeria in February seem like a lifetime ago now but it was with much trepidation I made the trip, the tales of kidnapping as a service in the corner of the control I call home these days seeming like an extract from a Federick Forsyth book. The compromise was to fly light and quick, never spending more than a couple of days anywhere. I’s Lagos connections helped smooth the arrival and departure, a known driver to ferry me around for the few days I spent there being a big bonus. Even then on the flight back whilst trying to be as low key as possible, I heard someone shout my name on the plane. It was S, another old friend from secondary school days who I had last run into at Mobil House in the early 2,000s before she had seemingly vanished into thing air. Whilst catching up it turned out she’d left the job a few months after I’d run into her, before I’d worked up the nerve to get her number. Given she was a crush of sorts, one wonders where that particular set of sliding doors might have led. The Patriach’s 80th birthday turned out very well - and made for a great surprise for him which made the hardship of the trip well worth it, I would say.

A slew of family celebrations drew me to the Midlands, first Nottingham and then Birmingham, sandwiched between my regular trips to the Netherlands. Heading into Birmingham threw up a fascinating taxi driver conversation of the sort I was especially fond of back in the day. The driver of the day arrived as a six year old in the late sixties in Birmingham and had been there since. Very much a proud citizen of his city, he took pains to point out all the new things springing up as part of a massive rejuvenation exercise - and the HS2 works, the most elephant of white elephant projects it would seem. Portugal (Albufeira, Lagos) and a wedding in the centre of London made up the rest of the summer, and with it the chance to catch up with O and the boys who in the years since we last saw them had become strapping teenagers. We did get to reprise of the last pictures we took together though which was fun to place side by side.

Just over a year since I packed the prodigal thing in, the sense is one of having settled somewhat. There’s the warm welcome of Welcome Church in Woking to look forward to on most weekends (it helps that a friend and his family from way back also attend), L has settled into the routine of nursery with school applications to look forward to next year and S’s dalliance with tech continues apace. The one sliver of doubt, if there is one is if this all sits very well with my inner prodigal. Time will tell, I suppose.