A sense of perspective

January 9, 2012

I have a dear friend whose son-in-law has been posted to Afghan, as he calls it. The dangers he faces make my concerns about our trip look truly paltry. I think of him often and pray he will come home safe. And yet my own concerns feel no less real to me. I shouldn’t be even talking about them in the same paragraph.

It seems incredible that while he and his mates are laying their lives on the line – for a cause I have to say I don’t believe in - we should even be free to think about indulging in such frivolities, let alone bothering our heads about the possibilities of meeting unfriendly natives. But that’s the way it is.

It feels almost as if we are stepping outside the real world for a while. We aren’t, of course, however much that formed part of my earlier wishful thinking.

Silly, really. The gap year as originally envisaged has shrunk to a couple of months, followed by two or three months at home over the summer, with a variety of family commitments already made.

With luck there will be time for a couple of weeks away in the motorhome in the UK. With more luck, a lengthier trip abroad in the autumn. But we have to recognise that the biggest stroke of luck of all is that my parents are still with us. And it is precisely life’s unpredictability that has persuaded me to leave a job I love, and just get on with it, as best I can – right now.