“Think you’re escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.”
-James Joyce, Ulysses
Disclaimer – I did not put any hyperlinks in this post so if there are any, they are ads. Don’t click. Or do. Up to you. Free will and all that jazz.
For those who, for whatever reason, enjoy reading my rather long entries, I know it has been forever. Life is rather skilled at getting in the way of ones best intentions, is it not?
I’m going to attempt a rather ambitious task here – a multi-part series regaling the people of the internet (read: the 4 people who actually read these, 2 of whom are my Mum and Dad) with tales from the trip my sister and I took to the UK in May. It was, quite possibly, one of the most enjoyable and insane trips of my life — and yes that includes the madness of Berlin in the spring. What’s that? I’ve never told you that story? Ask me some time. It’s a good one.
As I sit in the upper lobby of my bewilderingly large hostel trying to decide whether the neon glow of the Generator’s welcome sign is gaudy or curiously comforting, a lone uilleann pipe begins its beautiful wailing just below me on the other side of the steel railings. As other instruments quickly join in on the melody the scenery transforms from the hostel that remains my sometimes-overcrowded-place-of-residence for the next two weeks into a warm and cozy local inn-like atmosphere where I instantly feel happy and at home. Honestly, I was half waiting for Merry and Pippin to jump on the tables and start stomping their feet to the music. OK, so I might STILL be waiting for that to happen – it’s good to dream right?