NORWICH - Bye Bye Britain. Again.

If I had to list my special skills, or super powers, then leaving countries would have to be one of them. Packing my bags, even for a long term seismic trans-continental move, takes me all of about an hour these days. Much more difficult was putting all the books into boxes in a pleasing shape/colour formation (they may need to follow me sometime in the future and, therefore, must be aesthetically appealing to whoever is shipping them. They need to *love* them if they're going to pay them due care) Much the same can be said for the obligatory cross country farewell tour. You can just do some phone calls and e-mails. But, really, you wanna try and see as many folks as possible.


St. Peter Mancroft in Norwich, on a cool, clear morning circa 2002.

This has meant I finally got to do the long overdue Norwich visit. As per usual, the cosmetic changes of the town were the least interesting part of the visit (why does my previously grungy market now look like a set of beach shacks? Why is there a new mall the size of a blue whale just down the road from a mall which already was the size of a fairly mature sperm whale?) but there were many meetings and chance encounters with peeps. Special thanks to the Skivingtons for use of their fine home, and to Bertha the cat for endless hours of entertainment. I don't really take to animals but I do enjoy the company of one who is obviously hell bent on destruction. Incidentally I did promise to Jenny I'd open up a discussion here on the many virtues and vices involved in modern air travel; should we curb it to save the planet? And does air travel, as the Bishop of London informed us, constitute sin? The answer to the latter is, quite obviously, no. But that's difficult to square with legitimate environmental concerns, hence a lot of very complicated and contradictory theology emerging on the topic. It gives me a headache, but hopefully the cleaner airs of Vancouver will help to ease the discomfort.

Seeing many of the wonderful Dorset, Norwich, Bristol and London brethren does make the psychological process of leaving the country a little more tricky. I'm suddenly reminded of how much I enjoy these people's company and how I'll miss the fairly-easy-if-you're-not-relying-on-the-trains methods to get between them. But then I come home, and I start putting things in a bag and; lo and behold! It's remarkably easy all over again. And, to me, it all makes perfect sense.

So it's ta-ra from me. Pending some Canadian immigration official taking a dislike to me or my funky Diocese of New Westminster headed notepaper, I'll speak to you all on the other side.


Flying over south east Britain on the way out of London's beautiful airports. Bye bye mellow brick roads...