Perhaps it's only when you are about to leave something, somewhere or someone that you start to appreciate what is about to be part of your past. Yorkshire - my Yorkshire. Shall I never see your rolling wolds again, your quiet rivers moving perpetually to the vast silted mouth of The Humber - a word that in ancient English simply meant "river". Shall I never see your ancient villages with their medieval stone churches beneath towering sycamore and beech where rooks caw to greet the day? Oh Yorkshire, when I am gone please think of me some times, my sweet, sweet motherland. Home to Captain Cook and Emily Bronte, J.B.Priestley and Ted Hughes, David Hockney and Arthur Scargill, Saint John of Beverley, William Wilberforce, Barbara Hepworth, Henry Brearley and Paul Daniels. Though I am gone you shall liveth for evermore in my mortal heart.
And I shall miss our weather, our unpredictable weather with blue and grey skies, sunshine and snow, that Forrest Gump chocolate box quality. And I shall miss steak pies from Sean's, "Eastenders", fish and chip specials from "Three Steps" and long walks in The Peak District with camera in hand and the banter in our local and visits to Hull to watch my beloved Tigers. Vegetables growing in our garden. There is plenty that I shall miss.
However, there's plenty I shall be glad to leave behind. The careerism of professional politicians with their weasel words. Reality TV shows and "talent shows" and Simon Cowell and Jordan (aka Katie Price) and "The Sun" newspaper and people rushing their lives away and tattoos. And I won't miss our monstrous supermarkets and our crowded motorways or graffiti or litter or clusters of people standing outside public buildings like lepers under clouds of blue grey tobacco smoke. Nor shall I miss taxi drivers or potholes in the road, drivers on mobile phones, dog dirt on verges or unsolicited calls from money hungry call centres. No I won't miss any of that.
Please don't think I'm having second thoughts. Just pensive that's all. We are the new pilgrims aboard a metaphorical "Mayflower" - bound for a new life in a new world - Blogland - where all of our dreams will surely come true and we can live in peace like our new national anthem says - "far far away from the mad rushing crowd."
I might not get to blog again until I reach Blogland though there may be some spare time when several of us are in transit at Dubai Airport - one of the world's great new crossroads. All human life passes through there. I trust that all emigrants are ready to go and that private arrangements have been made to get you to your previously nominated international airport. As I said before - tickets will be available at the main information desk. All you need is your passport and luggage. I'm so looking forward to meeting everybody on Thursday when we'll assemble round the social club pool for nibbles, informal drinks and the very start of our new life together in Blogland. Afterwards, there's the arm wrestling tournament which should be a load of fun.