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A journey of the End....

I've been to England six times. Granted that, the first time I went, I was 3 and remember only a little bit of it. I went again at ages 18, 21, 28, 33 and 34. Of all those ages I've had four birthdays over there, as my birthday is in late May (late Autumn), I've also spent 4 whole summers, seen one Christmas, one New Year's Eve, two Easters, and absolutely no Samhain (Halloween). All up, I have spent 23 months over there - almost 2 years added up.

I've also, since I went at age 18, had a tiny obsession with travelling there, I love touring, travelling, seeing the old sites, places I've only read about or heard in stories from my mother - and my relatives hold a kind of madness that my prim and proper relatives here don't have - now I know where I get some of it from.

After turning 19 in England, I became pagan and have never looked back, but one thing that I did two years after the event was record down in a diary 'what I did two years ago today.' I kept a record in a TAFE diary of my adventures completed two years earlier - talk about obsessed with the memory of the trip.

Even after I went at age 28-29, I recall a year later saying - 'wow, I was on top of Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh a year ago today!' Reminising is a part of how I keep my memory of such significant moments of my life. These days and moments are what makes me ME. I knew who I was after these trips - I found myself - sometimes it took time, but eventually I knew who I was, what I loved, and what I respected - and geographically, I was English, but more importantly from Yorkshire - and believe me, that's a GREAT county to be a part of, to have blood from. It's in the veins.

As readers of this blog will know, I just spent under 11 months in the UK. After 6 weeks of being back in Australia, I would have been able to say 'hey, a year ago today, I arrived in London on a cool autumnul day.' But I have not really done that this time round. I've not really dwelled on my last trip like I have the others, wondering what I was doing a year ago - maybe that's because I feel I have got the place out of my system - I've seen a winter, an early spring, heard the cuckoos, danced folk dances on cobbled streets, stayed up all night in the woods celebrating the sabbats, and fire-twirled during a snow blizzard! Maybe because I got a lot of my dreams completed that I don't feel the need to expect England to give me what I want. She's given it to me. It's in my mind, in my heart, in my feet, and no one can take it from me. People in the past have been a little rude to me about my obsession with England, but it was obvious they were jealous. I'm not only a fan of traveling in England, but I love it's history, it's folklore, it's mystery, it's identity, it's customs - whether I'm obsessed with it or not, I still study it. Even from here. My books on folklore, mystery and faeries usually proves that.

Just for the record I'll think about what I was doing a year ago this week - Ostara had just happened, the crocuses and daffodils were already up, and on the Equinox I had danced at the local primary school in my morris dancing team, and then we went to the pub - all 5 of us. It had been a lovely sunny spring day, and a few days later, England had an unseasonable summery week of t-shirt weather. On one of those lovely warm summery days, I went to Halifax and walked around the Piece Hall and Borough Market, like I also did at age 3! I remember not seeing Halifax look so lovely on a sunny day before...