The dark dog days of January are here. The waiting feels endless like a vast sea stretching for miles. I thought the limbo would have an end point but it feels like soup. We float along on crusty cruton lilos. Leraning German is hard work, getting settled here is more hard work. Part of this feeling is due to the uncertainties that we have come to live with. It is possible that we may move flat again.
The question of if it has all been worth it buzzes around in my brain. There is no answer to this most tricky of questions. It is a yes on most days but sometimes I waver.
Talking to an old friend brought an unexpected sense of melancholy. The ache for our imperfect old life. I have a fear that the Berlin we thought we were getting doesn't exist. It was a construct based on memories and desire for some excitement in a pandemic world. Tories will tory however and the Scotland we left is altered and not where we left it. The Queen is dead and buried, there have been more prime ministers than I can keep track of. Plod along we must because sometimes it is all there is to do. Hoping that the next day will bring some unexpected joy or welcome news.