Summer has truly arrived and the air is thick with small birds, dragonflies and the high sawing call of locusts.  The students complain about the heat and I get cold in air conditioning.  It has been some time since I last wrote. Although not overtly ‘new’ anymore, the surprises this culture offers are even more enjoyable. Like the water fountain that sporadically spurts rhythmic jets to the tune of ‘Oh Micky you’re so fine’ and takeaway shops delivering to anywhere along the tree-covered riverside.

The strangest thing about the homesickness that weaves itself in and out of my life here, is realising that I don’t actually have a life to go back to in the U.K. Family and friends, of course – but a house, a job, my purpose and dreams don’t belong there anymore.  Ironically, actually going home might bring up greater feelings of displacement than ever before.  But this all belongs to the future, where I should leave it for now.

Perhaps the feeling of ‘missing’ that tugs at my heart sometimes is for my loved ones. Perhaps it is for a new adventure, or maybe it is for the writing I have neglected.  Probably it is for all three.

And it is interesting that the small ‘missing’ factor of my largely contented and happy life is where my introspective attention is drawn. But so it goes with many folk! Stories are not written about contented, happy people, after all.  Momentum comes from desire, desire from a lack, and our story-loving, time-travelling minds like to assess situations to predict what happens in the next chapter. For me, the next chapter will be here in Korea still, exploring ever more hobbies, putting up with my yowling cat and trying to be a better teacher. On melancholy missing days I remind myself that I am laying the foundations for future dreams.  For now it makes sense to follow the Korean proverb “한 우물을 파라” – ‘When digging a well, keep digging in one place.’