Oxford

I am on the train back from Oxford.

A partially successful visit for some business that will have an impact on, essentially, where I spend a chunk of my future.

At the same time the university was buzzing with students and students to be on their matriculation ceremonies. The first afternoon of the rest of their lives. Many of them already grabbing life by the bottle neck, taking control of their future by the neck, one gulp of freedom, student loan, maintenance grants, and cheap prosecco at the time.

Meanwhile, I stated into the windows of an empty flat, having travelled all the way from home, only to find that the proverbial key safe a) did not exist, b) did not contain a key to access the flat, and c) meant that I will have to return to Oxford at some stage.

A small treat for myself, apart from a decent burger and a beer, was the tote bag I bought from Blackwell’s. This will replace my old one that bring such bitter memories of the place that once was home. I am replacing the old with the new.

Like Oxford, my life seems to churn out the old and being in the new. The new blood to revitalise an old town, where dreams are built on dreams and bottle necks, and where new friendships are forged and lives are settled down.

I am paraphrasing here, but “he makes up for what he lacks by the dignity with which he carries what he has”. (clearly not my writing here!)