Blue Grass and Purple Lilac

My preparations to depart at the end of the coming summer are many fold.  I am reading London by Edward Rutherfurd – a massive tome so I read in segments of four pages a day – and a charming little book entitled  I Never Knew That About London!  Do you know why in England they drive on the left? 

“The British custom of keeping to the left had developed from jousting when competitors needed to keep their javelin or sword hand free to meet the oncoming horseman.  As most people were right-handed this meant passing each other on the left.  The Continental custom of driving on the right was introduced ty the Emperor Napoleon, who was left handed.  Since it was he who established the first road system across most of Europe, right-hand drive was adopted on the Continent.”

Another thing I have taken to doing is looking out of the window during this gorgeous spring and thinking, I won’t see those two shades of lilac offset against Monsieur Extermann’s glycine against the backdrop of the 1830s church tower next year.  Nostalgia already before I have even left.  Is this not human nature? At least it is my nature.   Always thinking about what we don’t/can’t have.  But I’m lucky as this house will still be ours and I can always come back for my lilac fix next year, all being well.

The response to our move has been greatly supported in general by our friends and family although I have had some strange reactions ranging from the subtle “How will Mr. Jules survive under the drizzle of London?”  (er…the same way he survives under the drizzle of Geneva?) to the more outlandish “London men are dirty, they never change their suits.”  (Real men don’t give a toss about these things). 

Tonight we will drive up to Mont Pelerin and have dinner with some old friends of ours over from Dubai.  Fed-up with the glitzy Emirate they had applied to emigrate to Vancouver and now have cold feet and are thinking of moving here with their young family.  They are Lebanese, educated and generous.  Some of my best memories of the Dubai  days are the evenings spent with them and now just as we prepare to leave they think of coming here…It is as if there is a conspiracy to hold me back; the  lilac conspiring to be the deepest most vibrant purple colour and new friends arriving.  But, I tell myself, new friends await us and the lilac will be replaced by bluebells in the woods near  my mother’s house. 

The grass will not be greener, it will be a completely different colour and I’ll be keeping my sword hand free to meet the oncoming horseman.