Ramblin' Ollie Returns is being put to bed for the duration of the English summertime... hmm, that'll be about two and a half weeks then.
Not quite. More like five and a half weeks. I don't know what my immediate future holds - none of us do, I suppose, but most of us can make a pretty good guess. Well, I don't have that luxury - or rather, I do have the luxury of having not the faintest idea what I'll be doing in the next few months. The last date which is fixed in my UK summer calender is Bristol's Ashton Court Community Festival on the 14-15th July. After that I might leave again. Then again I might not.
I might go to Vancouver, and then overland to Santiago, Chile, where I'll jump onto a plane to New Zealand. Then again I might not. My travels might be over. This could be the last you hear of Ramblin' Ollie! Then again it might not. It's pointless to speculate so I'll stop.
While I may be able to stop travelling - temporarily at least - I can't stop blogging! I spent last weekend hanging out with my family at my parents' home in Staffordshire and it was there that I had the idea to start a family blog.
My mum and dad actually live in Stoke-on-Trent (which is in Staffordshire) but I've decided not to be so specific from now on since the images that the words "Stoke-on-Trent" conjours up for people are all pretty negative. It's not even a problem with the place itself - which, to be fair, is a bit dreary in parts - it's the consumate unsexiness of the words "Stoke-on-Trent". I think someone on the city council should propose they change the name of the place to something more dynamic - I like "Alphaville" - so people would be more inclined to visit, but I digress...
Despite the unsexiness of the location we had a fabulous weekend. The weather was consistently gorgeous, the food was irrefutably delicious and the company was undeniably delightful. We played croquet with Pimms while the perfumes of nature sighed on our skins. We sang and danced and laughed and boozed until we were dizzy with the heady joys of familial communion. It was as though time had stopped and we were in a bubble and we drew perceptably closer to one another.
But then it was over. By Sunday evening there were only a few of us left and as I gathered my things on Monday morning in preparation for my departure that afternoon I felt a distinct despondency, a hollowness in the pit of my stomach, an emptiness in my heart, a spot that until that moment I had forgotten existed, a place where I hold my family dear. Somewhere along the journey between teen angst and adulthood I had lost an intimate connection with my brothers and sisters, the kind of connection that develops when you spend an entire childhood together.
I love my family. I have always loved my family. But I realise that for most of my adult life I've taken my family for granted and in doing so I have lost some of the magic that is conjured when the sparks generated by domestic bliss and discord start flying.
This is why I decided to start The Bettany Blog and this is where you will find me blogging in the immediate future... please - let me introduce you to my family.
