Goodmorning to you.
Just some housekeeping for you: In about seven hours, twenty-six minutes, The Ashers will be leaving town. Yes, in a shocking turn of events, I will be crossing the bridge and completely leaving the shire for a few weeks. Leaving my balcony, my beach, and my wifi network. The compound will echo with the silence of a family gone AWOL. There will be no-one here to curse at the 4.30am “doo-do do do” bird, no one to watch the sun pop up over the horizon, no one to listen to the waves late at night and decide whether or not it will be pumping tomorrow, no one to stare at the glistening flashes of light dancing on the pool and imagine the mer-people flicking their tails below.
I am excited to visit my overseas family, but of course I am sad to leave my haven. I love my little part of the world so much, that my heart breaks a tiny bit thinking of all the laughs that won’t be shared inside these walls this Christmas. Something new awaits us, just over there a bit. And I don’t usually go over there.
I won’t be taking this computer and I’ll be blogging to you from an iPad, so you will understand that things might go a little strange. Couple that with the duty free beverages that could be on offer, and who knows where this could all end up?
So bear with me… If I blog sporadically, or with mountains of typos when I do actually blog, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten you. I’ll just be blogging from a piece of virtual real estate where my neighbours aren’t “Creative Lighting Concepts” “Bigpond56374674” or “Pretty fly for a wifi”. I’ll miss pretty fly. And no doubt I’ll miss this little routine I have going on with you here.
But hopefully I’ll be able to bring you epic tales of adventure from afar. Or at least a nice pic of eggnog (not in a jar).
So whilst you are rubbing your eyes free of Santa’s magical sleep dust, I shall be chasing him through timezones, peering out my tiny window trying to get a glimpse of the warm glow of Rudolph’s nose.
Merry Christmas to all.
See you on the other side.
…From The Ashers