Memories from my study abroad at Keele University, UK.
The little things
Originally written: April 28, 2012.
I miss the beach. And being able to wear thongs on a daily basis. Complaining about the “hard” rain that lasts ten minutes, and then watching the sun peak out from behind the clouds, instead of this constant, grey, miserable drizzle. I just miss being warm. I miss living around the corner from a 24-hour servo. Not having to convert from pounds to dollars every time I purchase something. Being able to satisfy a random Coca-Cola craving at any time of the night. I miss my car. I miss random drives all over the city just because. I miss being in the same timezone as my family and friends. Nights in the city. Weekends at Goolwa. I miss the little things.
Originally written: July 15, 2012.
Peter Pevensie, once upon a time, was just like any other teenage boy. That is, until one day he followed his three younger siblings through a wardrobe and into the land of Narnia. It was there he witnessed the unimaginable; where he mastered the impossible; most importantly, it was where he made the friends he knew could last lifetimes and overcome all obstacles.
And then one faithful day, he tumbled back through that very same wardrobe and had to reacquaint himself with a life he’d all but forgotten. Suddenly he was just like any other boy again, and all the things he’d seen or done meant nothing to anyone but him. He was thrust back into a mould that was now much too small for him.
In Narnia, Peter had been king.
I focus solely on Peter and not the other Pevensie children because Edmund and Lucy got to return to Narnia several times, and Susan eventually lost interest in the place she was once a queen.
But Peter could never forget because his heart never truly left.
I miss Keele.
Ramblings of the midnight hour
Originally written: August 14th, 2012.
You wake up in the middle of the night with the sudden realisation that yes, England did happen, and you’re now measuring your life in “before” and “after,” and no matter how much time passes, you know you’ll never feel truly whole in the country of your birth again. Because six months was taken by a place, by a people, from across the world, and not until you set sail again and the dawning prospect of adventure, of somewhere new, hits you in the pit of your stomach, will you ever have even the slightest chance of getting that true completeness of spirit back. Because that’s who you are now. You’re the person who takes the leaps of faith, who steps off the beaten track, who makes the decisions others are too afraid to make. And it’s those moments that part of you will always live for now. Fuck.